Dark Heart
by Julirocks888
Summary: Rewrite of Deep In One's Heart. Very Different. Much Better. Draco Malfoy/OC. Just started on 3rd year.
1. The Boy Who Lived Is Shy After All

In the kind of life I led, happiness is temporary. My parents were always too busy for me, and my sister lived in Romania with her fiancee Charlie. My mother, the muggle, was the owner of a big company, her name being Margareth Zar. My father, the wizard, worked as head obliviator in the ministry of magic.  
Both of them were high-ranking at their job, so it was easy to say we were very well off. You might call me spoiled, and I was spoiled with everything I wanted. Up until I did my first accidental magic, when I was nine, I was very happy, without a care in the world. When I first did magic, though, my mother became a bit depressed, knowing that she'd miss seven years of my life. But as I discovered, she and my father didn't care too much about me anyways. I could do whatever I wanted, not because I was spoilt, but because they were to busy to care. From that moment on, everything changed. I started to change inside and out.  
My wavy black hair which was always tied up into ponytails with two colored ribbons to match my outfit suddenly became longer and very wild. It would hide my face and mask my feelings, giving me a dark look. I stopped spending as much time outside, so I was fair skinned, but not very tan. I lost some weight, because of depression due to the lack of sun, but I wasn't unhealthy. My clothes were no longer skirts and dresses, but skinny jeans and muscle shirts, with loose rib shirts on top. The shirts were no longer light pastel colors and fushias, but dark greens, deep blues and indigos, as well as some black. I started going a bit, but not too exaggeratedly, punk.  
Anyways, I started to get rid of my clingy childhood friends of the wizarding world, and started to hang out with some muggle kids, who were mostly more mature. They were much better friends than all the other spoiled brats who my father wanted me to be friends with. Some weren't even spoiled, but very shallow. For example, Ernie Macmillan was very pompous and spoiled, and Ronald Weasley was way too ingorant and shallow, only caring about quidditch.  
Muggles, instead, were more to my liking, or at least my friends. Bad words and bad behavior allowed. Carelessness encouraged and etiquette ignored. My friends were much like that, and we would meet in our houses a lot. I even started to go to muggle school, seeing as the hogwarts curriculum doesn't include important things such as math and science.  
We were a group of three. Me, Olive Craig, and Macarena Caez. Together, we were, if a little foolishly, the bad girls. We would skip some school, even at the tender age of ten. We'd slip skateboards to the little kids eating icecream and such things.  
Other than that, we spent a lot of time training in the volleyball court to keep our reputation as the best players in the junior team. It wasn't a surprise that with time we became the popular bad girls, stereotipical minus the being slutty and mean, and being much younger than those you see in the tv.  
I had known since I started muggle school that it and my friends was only temporary. But when my letter came and I had to tell them I had to leave, it still hurt. Anyways, that's how I got all the way to the day I had to go to diagon alley with a seriously bad girl attitude with a bit of competitive and independent in the mix.  
I dressed in black skinny jeans which were slightly ripped. Next, a light grey shirt with a rib length shirt of a very dark green with a light grey cat printed on the front. My overly used black converse finished the clothing look off.  
I combed my hair then shook it up, making it cover half of my face in a wild manner. I then put on some mascara, which I used even if a bit young, and some slightly glittery but otherwise transparent lip gloss.  
Satisfied, I grabbed my dark greendance revolution bag and tossed in my iphone with a black spiky case, which was enhanced to be used in Hogwarts. I also put in the necessary money and my usual extra blood-red halloween lollypop. I put another in my mouth and I ran down the stairs to my mother's study.  
"Mom?"  
"Yes Rowan?"  
"I'm going to diagon alley for my supplies. Are you coming or can I just go?" I asked.  
"I have a conference in fifteen minutes. You'll have to go alone." She said monotonously.  
"Ok, I'm taking a cab, you know I hate flooing." I said.  
"Hmm." She said absently.  
I ran out of the house into the street. We lived considerably near diagon alley. Just thirty blocks, instead of hours away as some were. Still, it was too much to walk, so I went by cab.  
"Thank you. How much is it?" I asked the cab driver.  
He just pointed at the counter rather rudely. I gave him the money.  
"Keep the change. Thank you."  
I strode off into the streets, heading towards the leaky cauldron. I arrived at the dark place and entered.  
"Hello, here for Hogwarts supplies?" Asked Tom.  
"Yeah, Tom. Can you help me with the bricks? It's been a long time." I asked.  
He smiled creepily and followed me toward the brick wall. Taking out his worn wand, he tapped the correct ones and went just as the passage started to open.  
I smiled at the sight I hadn't seen for nearly half a year and walked ahead. It was busy, just like it always was during the month before Hogwarts started. I rolled my eyes at the sight of the crowd gathered in front of the broom shop. I headed inside Flourish and Blotts to buy my books. Inside, was the snootiest boy ever, Draco Malfoy.  
"Hello Rowan." He said haughtily, obviously thinking of me being half-blood.  
"What is it Draco?" I rolled my eyes again.  
His father walked up to us. "It seems the blood isn't the only thing that's tainted." He commented, looking up and down my outfit in obvious disgust. "Your father could have done so much better."  
"Well, I think your past could be so much better." I said on the offensive.  
"So can your manners." He said, walking away before I could do anything else.  
"Coward." I muttered under my breath, narrowing my eyes.  
I bought my potions supplies next, then my robes.  
I was walking towards ollivanders when I spotted a familiar head. Hagrid was a good family friend, and he certainly was very cool.  
I walked up to him and stood in his path.  
"Hey Hagrid!" I exclaimed.  
"Oh, Rowan. You're buying your materials, I suppose?" He asked.  
"Yeah, what are you doing here? Is it the meat eating slugs again?" I inquired.  
"No. I am waiting for Harry to finish buying his wands." He laughed heartily. "I bought the repellent a week ago."  
"Harry, you say?" I asked. "Potter, by any chance?"  
"Yes. Do you want to meet him? He should be coming out just about now." He looked at the shop.  
Sure enough, a minute later, a scrawny boy emerged, holding a new wand in his hands delicately. He looked over at us, seeming surprised at me being here. He aproached us.  
"Hello." He said cautiously.  
"Hey. You're Harry Potter." I stated, not a question.  
"Yes." He said.  
"Where have you been for the past ten years, nobody knew and Professor Dumbledore wouldn't let anything slip." I smiled my trademark half-smile.  
"Muggle uncles." He said shyly. "Didn't even know of magic."  
"Nice. I personally am opposed completely opposed to muggle prejudice. Muggles are much cooler and relaxed. Plus the wizarding world is like a century behind." I rolled my eyes.  
"Well, my uncles aren't nearly as nice as you say. I don't know your name." He pointed out.  
"Rowan Zar. Of course, I just now people my age. You see, my parents aren't prejudiced either, so when I asked, they let me attend school." I shrugged.  
"You went to school?" Hagrid questioned me.  
"Yeah. Talking of school, I'm going to go get my wand, so..." I trailed off.  
"Oh yes, I'll see you in Hogwarts." Hagrid said.  
"Bye." Harry said.  
I walked away, heading to ollivanders. I walked in, seeing it was nowhere near empty. Mr Ollivander was about to attend Ronald Weasley, and sitting on two of the dusty couches were Molly and Ginny Weasley. It was apparent they'd just walked in.  
I sat on one of the couches, took out my phone, and started playing subway surfers. It was about five minutes later that anybody noticed me.  
"Oh, hello Rowan." Said Ginny casually.  
"Hey." I said.  
At the sound of my voice, Molly turned to see me. "Ah, hi Rowan, I didn't see you. You look so different. After all, it's been nearly two years since I've seen you."  
"Yes. I've been busy with my studies." I replied.  
"What studies?" Ron spoke up from the other side of the room.  
"I've been going to muggle school for the last two years." I told him.  
"Why?" Asked Molly.  
"For one, because I wanted to keep some of my mother's culture. Secondly, because at Hogwarts they don't teach math, language and other essentials." I said, trying to sound professional.  
"Hmm. Okay." She said, obviously not in agreement.  
We sat in silence until she went away.  
"Your turn, girl." Said Ollivanders. "What is your name?"  
"Rowan Zar." I said.  
"Ah yes, the daughter of Nigel Zar. Big troublemaker, that one. But how he talked of you, you were a little girl who was fond of colors." He pursed his lips.  
"My dad tends to depict me as a five year old." I grumbled.  
"Very well. Spread your arms out so I can measure you." He told me.  
he proceeded to take my every measuring. Then, he went into the depths of the dreary storage area and came back with about ten wands. He handed me one wordlessly. I waved it, and the desk melted into a brown puddle. With a flick of his wand, Ollivander fixed that and handed me another wand. This one made the room be filled with chicken feathers. He flicked his wand once again. After making him invisibe, duplicating the lamp, turning the couches green and exploding the chandelier, I finally settled for one.  
"A flexible 13 inch wand made of maple wood and unicorn hair. It's very good for curses and counter curses." He said. "Of course, that depends on how you do in school for the next seven years." He smiled with his worn lips.  
"Thankyou. how much is it?" I asked.  
"Nine galleons and three sickles." he collected the money and I went outside.  
As soon as I was outside, someone shouted out boo, and two pairs of hands grabbed me by the shoulders.  
"Hey Fred, George." I said, not even looking up.  
"How do you always..." Started George.  
Fred ended with. "...know it's us?"  
"'Cause I'm cool like that." I stated.  
They laughed. "That's why we came..."  
"To ask you if you would..."  
"Help us with our pranks at school." George finished the sentence off.  
"Maybe. Depends on what." I said.  
"Cool. We'll let you know when and what!" They said together.  
I rolled my eyes as the two baboons ran off. Instead of going home, I got my phone and dialled my mom's.  
"Hey Rowan." She said.  
"Can you get dad to come get me?" I asked, not wanting to take a cab, and knowing he wouldn't answer the phone.  
"Sorry Ro, he is in a meeting." She said absently.  
"Whatever. I'll be there in half an hour." I sighed.  
"'kay." She said, and she cut off the call.  
I headed out into the street and headed home.


	2. Nev Definitely Needs A Decent Pet

Once again, my parents didn't come, so it was just me who was walking along the platform, my shrinked owl cage and trunk in my pocket. As soon as I got to the train, I'd unshrink it, something I'd learnt two weeks ago, after putting it on the luggage compartment, so no heaviness issues. I walked on to the platform, a bit late though, but I still had five minutes, and I entered the train to find a compartment with someone my age, preferably not someone I disliked. I was walking past a compartment i didn't even look into when I heard my name.  
"Rowan?" Asked the familiar voice.  
I turned to the owner of the voice, who was in the compartment i'd skipped and to my surprise, Hermione Granger was in there. She had lived in my neighborhood, and gone to my school, in my grade. We didn't talk to each other, since she she didn't approve of how me and my friends were. I had always thought her weird, and I didn't particularly like her. Anyways, I decided to sit down with her.  
"You are a witch?" She asked.  
"Yeah. Didn't expect you to be one though." I commented.  
"Wasn't it such a pleasant surprise when you got your letter? I wouldn't ever have imagined that such a world existed." She said excitedly.  
"Actually, I knew of this. My father is a wizard." I stated.  
"Oh, so you aren't muggleborn." She said, surprised. "Can you do me a favor?"  
"It depends on what." I shrugged.  
"can you tell me a bit about the culture and protocol expected of wizards?" She asked.  
"You know, I'm the worst person you can ask that of." I pointed out.  
"Right. Then can you tell me about Hogwarts?" She questioned me.  
"Sure. You probably know the history behind it, due to your book." I pointed to the thick volume she was holding. "Did you get to the part of the four houses yet?" I asked, knowing she had gotten so many books even she wouldn't have been able to finish them all yet.  
She shook her head.  
"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. The main values to enter these are simple. Gryffindor depicts bravery. Hufflepuff keeps hard workers. Ravenclaw loves the smart people. And Slytherin favors the cunning ones." I said. "You are sorted by the sorting hat. In first year, you take basic classes, as well as in second year. In third and fourth you can add extras, at least two in third. In fifth you take your owls, and in sixth and seventh your newts. Extracurriculars are things like the chess and gobstone club, and the quidditch teams. Honestly, quidditch is a bore, no actual physical exertion, not like volleyball." I rolled my eyes.  
"Right, volleyball." She said. She hated it, because she was dreadful at any sports. "Talking of that, why did you even go to school?"  
"Well, they don't necessarily teach how to add two and two in Hogwarts." I said as if to a small child.  
We were interrupted by a small knock on the door. We looked to see Neville Longbottom peek in. He was one of the nicest wizards, just needing a self-esteem boost. Well, who could blame him with such a horrible past, talking of his parents. Oh, and he needed a decent pet as well.  
"Hey Neville." I said, beconing for him to come in.  
"Hello Rowan. Have you seen Trevor?" He asked. Yup, he needed a decent pet.  
"Hi, I'm Hermione. What's your name, and who is Trevor?" Hermione asked before I could open my mouth.  
"Uh, I-I'm Neville Longbottom. Trev-Trevor is m-my toad." He said, lacking confidence.  
"We didn't see him." I said.  
"Do you want help?" Hermione asked.  
"Please." He said, blushing.  
I unshrunk my trunk to show the compartment was full and we left, Hermione going with Neville, since she didn't feel like doing it alone, not knowing anyone or how Trevor looked. I went in the other direction. I greeted most, noticing I did indeed know about half of the train's passangers, excluding some muggleborns and a few others, who didn't get involved in the closely knit wizarding society. I arrived at the last compartment, finding that Fred, George, and Lee were there, looking at his tarantula.  
"Hey crazies." I cackled creepily to scare them. Success.  
"Oh, hi Rowan. You scared us." Lee said.  
"Yeah, just wondering if you saw Trevor. You know, Neville's toad?" I asked.  
"No, we haven't..."  
"...seen any toad."  
I rolled my eyes at their foolishness and I strode off to the other side of the train to see where the other two were. I came across Neville, who was walking alone and rather sad.  
"Where's Hermione?" I asked him, annoyed that she'd left him.  
"With Harry Potter and Ron." He said. "Don't you know any magic to get him back?" He asked.  
I slapped my forehead. "Of course! Why didn't I think of it! Accio Trevor!" I exclaimed with my wand out. I caught the toad in my hand and handed him the toad.  
"Thanks!" He said happily.  
"'Welcome." I cackled again, creeping him out, even if I did it often. I headed off to find Hermione.  
I found her near the other end, just as she was telling the two flustered boys to put on their robes.  
"I expect we'll arrive soon." She said bossily.  
I rolled my eyes as she left, and I sat down next to Ron.  
"Don't mind Hermione. She's always like this." I rolled my eyes.  
"You know her?" Asked Ron.  
"Yeah. She went to the same muggle school as I did." I answered.  
"You two know each other." Harry stated.  
"Yeah. When you have one or two wizarding parents, you tend to know a lot of people." Ron mumbled.  
"Is your whole family wizarding?" Harry asked me.  
"No. My dad is a half-blood wizard. My mother is a muggle." I answered.  
"Half-blood?" He asked. "What's that?"  
"It means you have one, two, or three wizarding grandparents. I have two. My father's father was a muggle-born wizard. My father's mother is a pure-blood witch. Both of my mother's parents are muggle. You are a half-blood as well. Your mother was a muggle-born witch, with two muggle parents. Your father was a pure-blood, with two wizarding parents. A muggle-born has two muggle parents, and a pure-blood has four wizarding grandparents." I explained.  
"I don't think those terms are very nice." Ron commented. "It all relates to an insult to muggle-borns, which I am so not saying." He said.  
"What insult?" Harry asked, confused.  
"Scaredy cat." I muttered to Ron under my breath. "Mudblood. It's a vile name which some pure-blood idealists refer mubbleborns as. Those who do think muggles are scum, worse than animals. Those supported you-know-who while he was still alive." I said.  
"How can you even say that word?" Ron exclaimed.  
"Ron, as long as it is just used as an explanation, and not as an insult, I think I can say it. I mean, Harry has to know." I told him imperiously. He frowned.  
Harry spoke up. "It's like when you get scared of me saying Voldemort." Harry said as Ron shivered. "I mean, it's just a name, not the person itself. See? Rowan isn't scared, I think."  
"I only say you-know-who because it's how everybody calls him. I am used to it. I am not scared of saying his name, it makes no sense." I rolled my eyes again. yes, I roll my eyes a lot.  
"Rowan?" Came Hermione's voice from the door.  
"Bye Ron, Harry." I said, going with Hermione to explain more. I closed the door behind me.  
As soon as we got back to the compartment, a voice sounded through the train. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minute's time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."  
I looked at Hermione, who was already wearing her uniform. I wasn't. She understood.  
"It's okay. You can change in front of me. I mean, we always did in the volleyball changing rooms." She said.  
"I don't need your approval." I stated.  
She stayed quiet as I put the colorless and boring uniform. That was one of the only aspects of Hogwarts that I don't like. The train started slowing considerably, taking at least a minute to stop completely.  
As described by the older kids I knew, the platform was small and dark, as well as cold due to the frosty September wind. Hagrid wobbled over to me, holding a lamp high above our heads. He smiled at me before shouting out. "First years! First years over here! All right there Harry?"  
Harry and Ron were next to us, at the front.  
"Come on, follow me. Any more first years? Mind your step now! First years follow me!"  
My school shoes were definitely inappropiate for the slippery and dark path leading to the lake.  
"You'll all get your first sight of Hogwarts in a second." Hagrid said. "It's just around this bend here."  
Everybody gasped as we saw the looming but magnificent castle for the first time. Nobody was allowed to visit the place, unless it was for the triwizard tournament. But that stopped happening long ago. Otherwise, just teachers and students could come.  
"No more than four to a boat!" Hagrid said, pointing at the wooden ones which were perched on the water. Hermione, Harry, Ron and Neville went on a bot, leaving me alone. Good thing I knew quite a few, so I sat with Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, and Melanie Shrimp.  
"Is everyone in?" Hagrid asked, surveying us. "Alright then, FORWARD!" The boats took off, not too slow but not too fast, towards the castle. Everyone, even Hagrid, kept their eyes on the towering castle.  
"Heads down!" Hagrid ordered. We did so, passing right through the cliff, or a curtain of IVY which hid an entrance to it. We got to an underwater harbour, which was kind of difficult to climb onto, since the rocks were extremely slippery. Hagrid knocked on the door as we finished unboarding. The door opened, showing Professor MacGonagall, who was standing there, imposing and severe. I heard she was severe, but at times, very nice, as long as it isn't related to class, and you were on her good side.  
"The first years, Professor McGonagall."  
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." She said in her trademark Scottish accent, opening the door.  
She led us all the way into a small room, which connected to the great hall. Most stood nervously. But some, like the idealist and superior purebloods, and I, who had a problem with over-confidence, stood on our own feet.  
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room." She took a breath.  
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."  
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you wait. I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."  
She left. I heard Harry speak to Ron.  
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked him.  
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."  
I gave a sigh of exasperation. "For goodness's sake, Ronald. If you are stupid enough to believe what those two tell you, I don't know how you can breathe and blink at the same time. Harry, they put a hat on you, the sorting hat, and he sees into your mind and sorts you. Simple enough." I rolled my eyes, and Harry's terrified expression turned slightly calmer, but he was still looking pretty green.  
"Move along now," McGonagall had returned. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start. Now, form a line and follow me."  
I felt like I was lost in a crowd of scaredy cats as I walked at the head of the shaking group. We walked into the hall, and then into the gigantic room, where all the other students were waiting. Trying not to look like a stupid ickle first year, like most, I took in the Great hall. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over the four house tables. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led us up there, and we came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at us made most take a shaky step back.  
Hermione whispered to Hannah. "Its bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."  
Professor McGonagall put the stool, with the hat on it, directly in front of us.  
It began singing its yearly song.  
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,  
I'll eat myself if you can find  
A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can cap them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you  
Where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning,  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,  
Those cunning folk use any means  
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"  
Everyone applauded when the annoying hat became still. The professor unroled her name parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." She said.  
Of all who were sorted before me, more explicitly everyone, not many stayed in my mind. The ones I knew the most, and the ones who called my attention the most were the ones I remembered. Here I list them.  
Hannah Abott, Susan Bones, Ernie Macmillan, Melanie Shrimp and Zacharias Smith were sorted into Hufflepuff. Hannah, suzy and Mellie were good friends of mine, one of the few my parents made me meet which I liked. Ernie and Zach were stupid trolls, who flaunted themselves at any moment possible.  
Terry Boot, Michael Corner and Padma Patil went to Ravenclaw. Terry was a very annoying boy, who acted like a know-it-all constantly. Mich was alright, but he spent way too much time with Terry for my liking. Padma surprised me, as she was sorted without her twin, Parvati. Oh well, it can happen.  
Millicent Bulstrode, Gregory Goyle, Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini went to Slytherin.  
Milli was agressive, much to my liking, but a bit too dull. Pansy was way too snooty, as were Dray, Theo and Blaise. Greg and his friend, who's last name was Crabbe were outright stupid, and followed Dray everywhere as if henchmen.  
Finally, the Gryffindors I knew were Lavender Brown, Seamus Finnigan, Parvati Patil, Harry Potter, and Ronald. Lav was in no way a Gryffindor. She was a stupid giggly girl who I absolutely detested with every fiber of my being. Seamus was very nice, and a good friend, of both me and Ronald. Parvati was a bit giggly, but not as much as Lav. Harry and Ron were no surprise, as Harry was always expected to be brave and have extreme powers. All of Ron's family had been in Gryffindor, so as I said, no surprise.  
Finally, it was my turn.  
"Zar, Rowan." The Professor said, rolling her parchment back up.  
I confidently walked up. I turned, meeting hundreds of pairs of eyes carelessly, and I sat down. I felt the ricketty old hat being placed on my head. I was so going to wash my hair tonight.  
"Hmm, you are the daughter of the other Zar. I see, extremely talented, just like your father. Hmm, very cocky, and very brave, not afraid of many things people normaly are. That might be Gryffindor. Not very loyal to the family, but that is because of how your family is. A ready mind, with an wide variety of creativeness. Maybe Ravenclaw? But no, maybe slytherin, very cunning and powerful. Hmm, not Ravenclaw. Gryffindor or Slytherin? Hmm, I need you to help me, where do you prefer to be put in?" It asked.  
"Preferably Gryffindor. Most my friends are there." I grumbled.  
"All right, if you want to. GRYFFINDOR!"  
I smirked and bounded off the seat, glad to have the dusty hat off my head. I took long and fast steps to the table, sitting in between Seamus and Harry, and in front of Ronald. As I sat, Professor Dumbledore stood.  
Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. I clapped heartily.  
"Is he a bit mad?" Harry asked me.  
"Yeah. He's brilliant, but he is mad. But I suspect that's why they call him a mad genius." I joked truthfully.  
He looked at his hands, and kept his head down. Soon, the food appeared, and we all started to eat. I ate roast beef, carrots and boiled potatoes with gravy. Even thoug I ate more than a healthy amount, every meal, I was actually pretty skinny. That was because I trained three to four hours a day.  
"You eat a lot." Percy pointed out. "But you are too thin." He stated.  
"I do a lot of sports." I said.  
"Yeah, like five hours a day." Seamus laughed.  
"Actually, three to four of volley practice." I corrected him matter of factly, making him laugh at my antics.  
"Wow. Are you good?" He asked.  
"Yeah. I am team captain, the best." I beamed proudly.  
"So modest." Hermione grumbled.  
We all laughed heartily. Somehow, Seamus diverted the matter to Quidditch.  
"It's really bad first years can't play." He grumbled.  
"Yeah." Ron replied.  
"Honestly, I don't get what's so great about the game. I mean, there isn't much physical exertion. All you do is fly and throw balls around. The only ones who actually do some sport are the beaters. Thank goodness I got my Volley jar. It has a pliable net, and some chalk. Also a Volley ball. That way, I can practice out in the fields. I mean, the chalk is magical, so it erases in four hours, just enough for practice. At least Mel and Seamus are here, that way we can play some. I so miss my volleyball team." I rambled.  
"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." Dumbles spoke up, standing once more. "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death." He finished gravely. I raised my eyebrows at Percy,  
"He's not serious?" Harry muttered to Percy.  
"Must be," said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we're not allowed to go somewhere. the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."  
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.  
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.  
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "and off we go!" And the school bellowed:  
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains all rot.  
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.  
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"  
I stood, walking alongside Percy as he led us, talking of what he meant by the painful death comment. We arrived to the common room, after a runin with Peeves. I dragged my hiney to my room, followed by Hermione, Parvati and Lavender. I sat on the bed, decoding to unpack tomorrow. I pulled the curtains around it, and I changed into my cute purple smurf pyjamas. I pulled the curtain back off. Parvati was already asleep, and Lavender in the bathroom. Hermione was up reading her book. I sighed, as much as I disliked her, she was going to have to become a friend. I mean, I was so not going to team up with the fluffy unicorn girls.  
"Hermione?" I asked.  
"Yes?" She said, not looking up.  
"I want to leave the past few years behind, and become friends. I mean, we have something in common now." I said.  
She smiled briefly and nodded, going back to her book. She was so not a people person.


	3. One, Two, Three Drooly Dog Heads

Seriously, just the first day of school and I already want to throw my uniform away and go practice Volleyball. All day, it was just walking around next to Harry as Ron and I explained more and more of the wizarding world to him. The thing is, he's Harry Potter, and that attracts crowds, making it extremely hard to walk.  
Other than the hallways being hard to circulate, the castle was way too big, and we got lost easily. By the second class, I was already sticking with Hermione, who knew her way around due to her nearly fotographic memory. The only problem still around was Peeves, but I learned to deal with him the first time around. I just levitated what he was using and let it drop on him.  
There was one person whom everyone feared. Filch was the caretaker, and he liked to punish everyone for nothing. He'd see every detail with hawk-like eyes, and every detail would cost you a detention. He was about to give me detention for having unruly hair, but Professor McGonagall stopped him in time.  
The classes were really no problem for me. I'd spent my life in wizarding homes, being taught by older students using wands which weren't meant for me. Now, with my knowledge, and a fitting wand, I was good to go. The boring classes like History of Magic and Astronomy, I knew from the start I'd never do those NEWTs.  
I always thought my favorite class would be DADA, but Quirrel managed to make it dull. Incidentally, my favorite class became Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall.  
"Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," she said as soon as we entered. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."  
Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. We were all very impressed and couldn't wait to get started, but soon realized we weren't going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, we were each given a match and started trying to turn it into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Mione and I had made any difference to our match; Professor McGonagall showed the class how it had gone all silver and pointy and gave us a rare smile. That's what people talked about, how if you were good she was nice to you.  
By Friday, we were extremely tired, and to add to that, we had double potions with the Slyhterins. We'd been told Snape favored them and detested Gryffindors. We were all in a bad mood already as we went down to the dungeons. Snape didn't spare the Gryffindors a glance as he went through the roll call, until he got to Harry's name.  
"Ah, Yes." He said softly. "Harry Potter. Our new... celebrity."  
Dray, Bince and Greg laughed as he finished taking roll call.  
"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking." He began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word, like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death. But that is if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."  
He paused.  
"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"  
I immediately raised my hand, knowing more than well the answer.  
"I don't know, sir." Said Harry.  
Snape's lips curled into a sneer.  
"Tut, tut, fame clearly isn't everything."  
He ignored my hand as well as Mione's.  
"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"  
"I don't know, sir."  
"Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter? What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"  
I put my hand down, by now knowing he wouldn't pick me.  
"I don't know," said Harry quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"  
"Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"  
I had written it down already, so I waited as the rest got their quills out and scribbled on their parchment.  
Snape spoke up. "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter."  
During the lesson, I was paired up with Hermione, and together we managed a perfect potion. The rest of the Gryffindors had to endure his nasty remarks and his showing off how well Dray had made the potion. We got ignored, no praising. Eventually, Neville caused an explosion, and as Hermione and I were next to him, we were shipped off to the hospital wings with burnt arms. I would have done a cooling spell, but my wand arm was pretty much useless for now.  
I knocked on the door. Madame Pomfrey opened it, and she whisked us onto two beds, one next to the other.  
"Was this a potions accident?" She asked calmly, as she put a drop of dittany in each burnt section, curing them.  
"Yeah. It was supposed to cure boils though." I answered. I gasped as she applied another drop.  
"Yes. It often has this effect on first years." She sighed. "There. You are good to go."  
I turned my arms to see how they were, finding that they were spotless. I took my wand out, casting a small reparo charm on the robes of each of us two.  
"Thanks." Mione said. She could be pleasant after all.  
When we returned to Potions, everybody was turning in their vials. Thankfully, Mione and I had been done by the time we'd been exploded on, so we turned a vial in as well. Harry and Ron went off to Hagrid's as we headed back to the common room.  
We were in the common room, finishing off our essays for History of Magic when the boys came back in. They had horrified expressions, and Harry was holding a crumpled newspaper. He sat down next to me and showed it.  
"Gringotts was robbed!?" I exclaimed, not believing that was possible.  
"Yes. That was the very same day Hagrid and I emptied the vault. He took a dusty package, the size of a fist." He explained.  
"Did you see what it was?" I asked, suspicious.  
"No." His face dropped. "But it must have been important."  
"Oh well, leave it." I flipped my hair over my shoulder.  
He smiled weakly, and sat down to start on his essay.  
Okay, it was enough that Quidditch and flying was of such importance at Hogwarts, but makong us have lessons on it? That was pure cruelty. They should make it optional at the very least. But no, I had to go. And worst of all, with the Slytherins.  
"Typical," said Harry darkly. "Just what I always wanted. To make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."  
"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."  
Dray really couldn't stop talking of how good he was at Quidditch. The truth was, he was pretty good at flying, but I knew by fact his grip was wrong. I may not really enjoy flying, but as with most aspects of magic, I was pretty good at it, for when I needed. I was so going to leave Draco in the dust as soon as I got the chance.  
Hermione was pretty much biting her nails to a stub of how nervous she was. She had fotographic memory, but that only helped with studying. It would definitely not help with flying a broomstick. She wouldn't shut up about all that she'd read about it.  
On Friday, Neville got a package through owl mail. He was literally jumping up and down as he opened it, since he never got any packages. I recognised it immediately,  
"It's a Remembrall!" he explained. "Gran knows I forget things, this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red, oh..." His face fell, because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "You've forgotten something..."  
His face went as red as the smoke as he worked hard, trying to remember what he'd forgotten. That was, until Dray interrupted us. Harry and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Dray, but Professor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there in a flash.  
"What's going on?"  
"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."  
"Scowling, Dray quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table.  
"Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.  
"Seriously, it's like he's klepto." I grumbled, but I knew better. Not that I had anything against kleptomaniacs. I just wanted to hit Draco so he'd fly all the way to Venus.  
At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry and Ron hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for our first flying lesson. I followed them, not nearly as excited, and at a much slower pace. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under our feet as we marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.  
The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. I had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.  
Madam Hooch finally arrived.  
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up! Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!"'  
"Up." I said lazily. The broom hopped onto my hand. I looked around, seeing I was the first, but a few others immediately followed.  
Madam Hooch then showed us how to mount the brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. I was delighted when she told Dray his grip was wrong.  
"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle, three, two..."  
But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.  
"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up. I saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and... Well, Hooch had to go get him to the infermary.  
"Did you see his face, the great lump?" Dray cackled evilly, followed by the rest of the Slytherins.  
"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati.  
"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."  
"Look!" said Dray, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."  
The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.  
"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harry quietly. Everyone stopped talking to watch, including me.  
Draco smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find, how about up a tree?"  
"Give it here!" Harry yelled, but Draco had leapt onto his broomstick and taken off. "Come and get it Potter!" He shouted out.  
Harry grabbed his broom.  
"No!" shouted Mione. "Madam Hooch told us not to move, you'll get us all into trouble."  
Harry ignored her. He mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up he soared, somehow very steady on a turned his broomstick sharply to face Draco in midair. He looked stunned.  
"Give it here," Harry called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"  
"Oh, yeah?" said Draco, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Ha.  
Harry leaned forward and grasped the broom tightly in both hands, and it shot toward Draco like a javelin. He only just got out of the way in time. Harry made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. A few people around me were clapping.  
"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called.  
"Catch it if you can, then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.  
I saw him hop off the broom, relieved, through the corner of my eye. Harry leaned forward and pointed his broom handle down, next second he was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball. He stretched out his hand, a foot from the ground he caught it, just in time to pull his broom straight, and he toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in his fist.  
"HARRY POTTER!" McGonnagall was running toward them. He got to his feet, trembling.  
"Never, in all my time at Hogwarts..." She was radiating angerm her eyes flashing, and her mouth moving soundlessly. I had never seen her like this, though I'd just met her on September first.  
"It wasn't his fault, Professor." Parvati said.  
"Be quiet, Miss Patil."  
"But Malfoy..." Ron started.  
"That's enough Mr. Weasley."  
"In his defense, that was some pretty amazing flying, and it was his first time." I commented, actually very helpfully.  
Her eyes flashed again, and her expression suddenly became relaxed, and even a slight bit excited and proud. She spoke up as she started walking back to the castle. "Potter, follow me, now."  
Hermione and I were the only ones who noticed this. We looked at each other, curiously. As soon as they were gone, we moved to be next to each other.  
"What do you think that was about?" She asked.  
"Well, I, for one, don't think Harry will leave school after all. If you noticed, she didn't go to the part of the castle where the offices are, rather the one where the classes of the older students are. I think this is going for the better." I said.  
"Well, what could it be? I mean, she seemed excited. That's the look my mom gets when she finishes a tooth mold, as if waiting to present it. I think she just solved a problem." She said.  
"What about?" I asked cluelessly.  
"Well, I think it's Quidditch oriented. But I don't know much about Quidditch." She sighed.  
It dawned on me. "She is going to make him a seeker. I mean, since Charlie Weasley left, Gryffindor has had no such thing as a decent seeker. Harry is right. He is small, and pretty fast. Oh no, now he will become a Quidditch fanatic. I really hate Quidditch." I groaned.  
"But isn't it against the rules?" She asked.  
"Of course. But he's Harry Potter. Dumbledore will make an exception." I shrugged. I knew it sounded bad for the wise wizard, but it was most probably true.  
"I'm not sure."  
"Come on, let's find out." I said, breaking into a run for the common room.  
Harry wasn't there. In the end, we didn't see him until dinnertime.  
"Seeker?" Ron was asking just as we sat down after an extensive library session for our Potions homework. I shot Hermione a happy look. "But first years never..."  
"It's Harry Potter, of course they had to let him in." I interrupted, rolling my eyes.  
"I start training next week. Only don't tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret." He said.  
"Right, Ollie is captain this year." I slapped my forehead. "He is totally obsessed. He'll make you wish you'd never started up."  
Fred and Gorge appeared next to us.  
"Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too, Beaters."  
"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."  
"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."  
"Bet it's that one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you."  
As soon as they left Dray popped up behind us, followed by his croonies.  
"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"  
"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," said Harry coolly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.  
"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Draco. "Tonight, if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only, no contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"  
"Of course he has," said Ron, wheeling around. "I'm his second, who's yours?"  
He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up.  
"Crabbe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."  
"You're kidding me? All you can do is throw around sparks." I slapped my forehead again, seeing as Draco had gone.  
"What do you mean, you're my second?" Harry asked Ron.  
"Well, if you die, a second takes over. But Row is right, you should just drop your wand and punch him." He said, waving it off with a chicken leg.  
"You shouldn't go." Hermione said. "You'll get in trouble." She said.  
"Can't a person eat in peace in this place?" said Ron.  
I had to retain myself from slapping him. Mione had grown on me.  
"You'll just lose Gryffindor many points." She shrugged.  
"To hell with the points." I muttered. The boys heard me, though Mione didn't  
"And it's really none of your business," said Harry.  
"Good-bye," said Ron.  
I did kick Ron where it hurt most, under the table.  
That night, Mione and I waited for the two to come out of their dorms. I wanted to follow them for fun, and Mione wanted to stop them.  
"Half-past eleven," Ron muttered at the stairs., "we'd better go."  
"I can't believe you're going to do this, Harry." Mione spoke up, lighting the lamp.  
"You!" said Ron furiously. "Go back to bed!"  
"I almost told your brother," Hermione snapped, "Percy, he's a prefect, he'd put a stop to this."  
"Come on," Harry said to Ron. He pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and climbed through the hole.  
Hermione wasn't going to give up that easily. She and I followed Ron through the portrait hole, her hissing at them like an angry goose.  
"Don't you care about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourselves, I don't want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells." She growled.  
"Go away."  
"All right, but I warned you, you just remember what I said when you're on the train home tomorrow, you're so,"  
But what they were, we didn't find out. Hermione had turned to the portrait of the Fat Lady to get back inside and found herself facing an empty painting. The Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit and Hermione was locked out of Gryffindor tower.  
"Now what am I going to do?" she asked shrilly.  
"That's your problem," said Ron. "We've got to go, we are going to be late."  
I cracked a discreet smile at the comment.  
They hadn't even reached the end of the corridor when we caught up with them.  
"I'm coming with you," she said.  
"You are not."  
"D'you think I'm going to stand out here and wait for Filch to catch me? If he finds all three of us I'll tell him the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up."  
"You've got some nerve..." said Ron loudly.  
"Shut up, both of you!" I sharply. "I heard something."  
It was a sort of snuffling.  
"Mrs. Norris?" breathed Ron, squinting through the dark.  
It wasn't Mrs. Norris. It was Neville. He was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as we crept nearer.  
"Thank goodness you found me! I've been out here for hours, I couldn't remember the new password to get in to bed."  
"Keep your voice down, Neville. The password's 'Pig snout' but it won't help you now, the Fat Lady's gone off somewhere." I said.  
"How's your arm?" said Harry.  
"Fine," said Neville, showing us. "Madam Pomfrey mended it in about a minute."  
"Good' well, look, Neville, we've got to be somewhere, we'll see you later."  
"Don't leave me!" said Neville, scrambling to his feet, "I don't want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron's been past twice already."  
Ron looked at his watch and then glared furiously at Hermione and Neville, though tgankfully not at me, for he knew I approved of this, and that I was extremely good at sneaking..  
"If either of you get us caught, I'll never rest until I've learned that Curse of the Bogies Quirrell told us about, and used it on you.  
Hermione opened her mouth, perhaps to tell Ron exactly how to use the Curse of the Bogies, but Harry hissed at her to be quiet and beckoned us all forward.  
"Sorry Harry, but this is best. Row, can you lead us, I've seen you in action." He said.  
"You have no right to call me Row." I grumbled. "You Quidditch lovers are the cause for me missing my volley training today. It's your fault they make us learn how to fly."  
He rolled his eyes, and I just started to take of my shoes and socks. The others followed my lead, even if the ground was cold. I told Hermione to stash her bathrobe in one of the passageways, keeping her purple winter pyjamas pn. After that, we headed towards the trophy room. Good thing I had good eyesight, because the moonlight was nowhere near enough to let the rest see properly. We arrived. The other two, perhaps three, weren't there yet.  
"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.  
Then a noise in the next room made us jump. Harry had only just raised his wand when we heard someone speak, and it wasn't Draco.  
"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner."  
It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, I waved madly at the other four to follow me as quickly as possible; we scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped round the corner when we heard Filch enter the trophy room.  
"They're in here somewhere," we heard him mutter, "probably hiding."  
"This way!" I mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor, after me. I could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville suddenly let out a frightened squeak and broke into a run, he tripped, grabbed Ron around the waist, and the pair of them toppled right into a suit of armor.  
The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.  
"RUN!" I whispered, and the five of us sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see whether Filch was following. We swung around the doorpost and galloped down one corridor then another, ,e in the lead, without any idea where we were or where we were going. We ripped through a tapestry and found ourselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which we knew was miles from the trophy room.  
"I think we've lost him," Harry panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping his forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.  
"I told you." Hermione panted.  
I was the only one who wasn't tired, seeing as I was the most fit of us all, by far.  
"We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."  
"Malfoy tricked you," Hermione said to Harry. "You realize that, don't you? He was never going to meet you. Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."  
"Let's go." I whispered, annoyed.  
It wasn't going to be that simple. We hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of was Peeves. He caught sight of us and gave a squeal of delight.  
"Peeves, please don't give us away. I'll help you with the pranking." I offered.  
"I'll give you a thirty second head start." He said.  
I nodded. "But don't name us."  
We nodded, were two hallways away when we heard kt.  
"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR"  
We found a closed door.  
"Oh, move over," I snarled. Tapping the lock, I said. "Alohomora!"  
The lock clicked and the door swung open. We piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed our ears against it, listening.  
"Which way did they go, Peeves?" Filch was saying. "Quick, tell me."  
"Say please."  
"Don't mess with me, Peeves, now where did they go?"  
"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please," said Peeves in his annoying singsong voice.  
"All right, please."  
"NOTHING! Ha haaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please! Ha ha! Haaaaaa!" And we heard the sound of Peeves whooshing away and Filch cursing in rage.  
"He thinks this door is locked," Harry whispered. "I think we'll be okay, get off, Neville!" I turned along with the rest to look at neville.  
We saw, quite clearly, what. For a moment, Harry looked like he was sure he'd walked into a nightmare. I could relate, this was too much, on top of everything that had happened so far. Weweren't in a room, as he had supposed. We were in a corridor. The forbidden corridor on the third floor. And now we definitely knew why it was forbidden.  
We were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor. It had three heads. Three pairs of rolling, mad eyes; three noses, twitching. And quivering in our direction; three drooling mouths, saliva hanging in slippery ropes from yellowish fangs. It was standing quite still, all six eyes staring at us, and I knew that the only reason they weren't already dead was that our sudden appearance had taken it by surprise, but it was quickly getting over that, there was no mistaking what those thunderous growls meant.  
Harry groped for the doorknob. I mean, obviously between Filch and death, we'd all take fell backward. I immediately slammed the door shut, and we ran back down the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for us somewhere else, because I didn't see him anywhere, but I hardly cared, all we wanted to do was put as much space as possible between us and that monster. We didn't stop running until we reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.  
"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at the rest of their sweaty faces, skipping my dry own.  
"Never mind that, pig snout, pig snout," panted Harry, and the portrait swung forward. We scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs. It was a while before any of us said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.  
"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" said Ron finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."  
Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" she snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on.  
"The floor?" Harry suggested. "I wasn't looking at its feet, I was too busy with its heads."  
"No, not the floor. It was standing on a trapdoor. It's obviously guarding something." I noted.  
Mione stood up, glaring at them. I hope you're pleased with yourselves. We could all have been killed, or worse, expelled. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to bed."  
I followed her back to the room.


	4. Simple But Annoying Magic May Be Useful

I nearly died the next day, laughing my head off until I was gasping for breath. The reason? Dray's face in the morning when he saw Ron and Harry were still there in the morning. The boys ignored that, but were pretty excited of last night's adventure. I had liked the sneaking part, and the adrenaline rush after the dog incident. Of course, I hod that, lest Hermione would kill me. Hermione and I exited the room early, since we had to catch up on some Transfiguration homework.  
That afternoon, I was heading to the field next to the Quidditch pitch to practice when I caught a strange sight. Harry was flying on a Nimbus 2000. How had he gotten it? Maybe he borrowed it? No, the only people I knew had Nimbus 2000s were three or four older Slytherin students. Oliver was throwing golf balls into the air, and Harry was catching them with growing ease. I caught Harry's eye, and he waved. I headed to the pitch, and both Ollie and Harry came down.  
"You have a Nimbus 2000." I stated.  
Harry nodded excitedly. "I got it by mail today, at breakfast after you left." He smiled. "A present from Professor McGonagall."  
"We'll definitely be winning the cup this year." Oliver said proudly.  
"Careful big head, you head will explode soon, and all because of Quidditch, of all things." I smirked.  
He gave me a glare. We didn't know each other well, due to the age difference, but enough to talk like this.  
"Quidditch is the best thing invented!" He exclaimed.  
"Nuh-uh." I laughed.  
He grimaced.  
"Whatever. You go do your so-called fun sport and I'll go practice." I rolled my eyes, walking away.  
In between the classes, Homework and every-day volleyball, I barely noticed as two months passed by. I noticed that despite the very good reputation Hogwarts had for one of the best learning environments, at least for magic, there was a lot of division and competitive attitude between the houses, years, and genders. Houses, obvious. The years were very divided, since the level of magic per year was so much more or less, that the younger ones felt intimidated, and the older students felt annoyed at the dimwit little kids, me included, I guess. Yup, I just insulted myself. Oh well, we were already two months in when we started learning actual magic, rather than magical theory.  
Mr Flitwick, who taught Charms was the first, well after Professor MacGonagall, but she doesn't count, since she did it from day one. Well, I guess it could be called a Halloween surprise. Okay, so, we had two hours of Charms, and what were we doing as a first magic lessons? Levitating, seriously, levitating. I learnt that from the Weasley twins two years ago, using their wands.  
"Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing!" squeaked Professor Flitwick, perched on top of his pile of books as usual. "Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the magic words properly is very important, too, never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."  
I rolled my eyes and even before Hermione, I did it.  
"It shouldn't be too hard." Hermione started.  
I smirked. "Watch and learn." I laughed.  
She looked at me weirdly.  
"Wingardium Leviosa." I chanted as the feather we were levitating rose swiftly and steadily above our heads.  
"Oh, well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss Zar's done it!"  
Hermione levitated it as well, when he asked.  
"Very good, you two are done. I think I'll have to split you two up. Miss Zar and Mister Potter are together. Oh, and Miss Granger with Mister Weasley."  
I smiled warmly at Harry and changed places with Ron. I laughed, trying to teach Harry. He wasn't very good, but at least not as bad as Ron.  
"The spell has an emphasis on gar, not vio." Hermione lectured Ron.  
Harry and I snickered at that.  
Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of the class. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he said to Harry as they pushed their way into the crowded corridor with us behind, though they weren't really aware, "she's a nightmare, honestly. "  
Hermione knocked into Harry as she ran past, crying.  
"I think she heard you." Harry said.  
I stopped the two by their sleeves and turned them to face me, giving them a deadly glare. Ron cowered at the anger I was radiating. I had an intimidating influence when I wanted. "Of course she did. One more step out of line, Weasley, and I will make sure you get expelled. And you know I am able to do that, so don't doubt I will, even better than your two baboon brothers." Of course, for the twins, that wouldn't be an insult. I walked away, so obviously angry that some turned to stare at me and them.  
"She is very scary." Harry said in the distance.  
I started searching the castle, fuming. I didn't care if I skipped class. Ot was already dinner time when I found her, madder than ever. She was sobbing in a bathroom cubicle.  
I was about to talk to Hermione, who'd just come out of the cubicle, when she gave a high pitch scream, right as a lock sounded. I turned my head around, coming face to face with a gigantic troll. I whipped my wand out and stood in front of Hermione. It swung, and I ducked, pushing Hermione to the side. The two boys burst in.  
"Expelliarmus!" I shouted.  
The troll fell, nearly on top of Ron and Harry. I felt my instincts as a witch take over, and I dodged and ducked, using the few spells I knew, mostly stupefy and expelliarmus, which were all pretty easy. I did one last trick.  
"Wingardium Leviosa!"  
The club the troll was holding levitated, and I let go of it, making it knock the troll on the head. It fell down with a tremendous boom.  
"Are you okay Mione?" I asked as she shakily stood from under the sinks.  
She nodded, still trembling. I turned to look at the two boys. Their jaws were hanging open, and they were staring at me in awe. The adrenaline started to disappear, and my shoulders sagged slightly amd I swayed a little, that was so very tiring, but not as much thanks to Volleyball, Volley, I hadn't practiced, shit!  
I turned my head as McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell burt into the bathroom.  
"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitories?"  
"Please, Professor McGonagall, they were looking for me."  
"Miss Granger!"  
Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last.  
"I went looking for the troll because I, I thought I could deal with it on my own, you know, because I've read all about them."  
Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher? "If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Rowan battled the troll untill it was knocked out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."  
Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them, for me it was no problem.  
"Well, in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"  
Hermione hung her head. I have to admit I was surprised. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.  
"Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."  
Hermione left.  
Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron.  
"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go."  
"And Rowan, you get twenty, for this feat, but never try anything like this again."  
I nodded tiredly.  
She looked at me. Worriedly. "Are you feeling alright?"  
"Yeah, why?"  
"You seem..."  
It finally got to me, and I collapsed, falling into darkness.  
I awoke in a white room, the infermary, Madam Pomfrey hovering over me, while talking to a worried McGonagall.  
"She is magically exhausted. She has a more capable and powerful core, but what she did today was too much for her, at least at this age. She needs to rest. When she awakes she must go to sleep to her dorm, and she musn't have classes until midday tomorrow."  
"Yay!" I exclaimed.  
The two turned to look at me, their eyebrows raised. I raised my hands in defeat and left them to their talking.  
November started out as the coldest we'd had yet in the year. The temperature dropped so abruptly that nobody was prepared.  
After the troll thing, I was mad at the boys for about a week, but I eventually warmed up, seeing as we were definitely friends after that terrifying experience.  
Anyways, it was sunny, but undeniably cold the morning of the Quidditch match.  
"Why aren't you going?" Ronald argued with me.  
"I am proving a point to myself. Quidditch is not a sport, or fun, and never will be." I shot back.  
He glared at me, clearly frustrated.  
"You've got to eat some breakfast." Mione started  
"I don't want anything."  
"Just a bit of toast," she wheedled.  
"I'm not hungry."  
Harry looked terrible. In an hour's time he'd be walking onto the field for the first time. It was like my first volley tournament..  
"Harry, you need your strength," said Seamus. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."  
"Thanks, Seamus," said Harry, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.  
I was waiting by the forbidden forest when they came, acompanied by Hagrid. We entered and had tea.  
"You what?" I asked.  
"Harry's broom was being jinxed by Snape, and so Hermione made sure he stopped by setting his robes on fire." Ron repeated.  
"Are you crazy? Snape would never do that! He's a teacher for godness's sake!" Hagrid exclaimed.  
"It doesn't seem his style. He's not stupid. He wouldn't do that amongst all those teachers." I raised my eyebrows.  
"It was Snape," Ron was explaining, "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."  
"Rubbish," said Hagrid. "Why would Snape do something like that?"  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at one another, wondering what to tell him. Harry decided on the truth.  
"I found out something about him," he told Hagrid. "He tried to get past that three-headed dog on Halloween. It bit him. We think he was trying to steal whatever it's guarding."  
Hagrid dropped the teapot.  
"How do you know about Fluffy?" he said.  
"Fluffy?" I tested the name out.  
"Yeah, he's mine, I bought him off a Greek chappie I met in the pub last year, I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the..."  
"Yes?" said Harry eagerly.  
"Now, don't ask me anymore," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret."  
"But Snape's trying to steal it."  
"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothing of the sort."  
"So why did he just try and kill Harry?" cried Hermione. The afternoon's events certainly seemed to have changed her mind about Snape. I know a jinx when I see one, Hagrid, I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"  
"I'm tellign you, you're wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don't know why Harry's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try and kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of you, you're meddling in things that don't concern you. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, and you forget what it's guarding, that's between Professor Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel..."  
"Aha!" said Harry, "so there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"  
Hagrid looked furious with himself, even as we exited.  
"So you three think it was Snape?" I asked.  
They nodded.  
"I can't say. I mean, it doesn't seem his style, but I wasn't there, so I can't say. I guess I'll just have to believe you..."  
They smiled, now at ease.


	5. Tragedy Is No Joke

It was nearing Christmas when I got the fateful letter. I was reading my favorite muggle book, Forever, by Judy Bloom, when I heard a small tapping on the window. I picked myself up and went to open it. A snowy white owl entered the room, holding a letter. It looked like it had gotten wet and then dried at some parts. Tears, I realised. It was from Charlie Weasley. Now scared, I opened it.

"There was an accident with a dragon, Melissa didn't make it."

I thanked the gods that I was alone as I let out a strangled sound. Melissa was my older half-sister, from my father's first marriage. She was twenty seven. When she graduated from Hogwarts, she had gone to Romania with Charlie Weasley. They were engaged not too long ago, and now this happened. They were both working with dragons, and I knew that was dangerous, but I never imagined this happening. What must Charlie be going through? He loved her. I fell towards the floor, leaning against the wall, sobbing lightly. How could it be? She was the person I looked up to all my life, my sister... This couldn't have happened. I shakily took out a piece of parchment, a quill and ink.

"Dear Charlie,  
I want you to know that I share your sorrow in this, and that you aren't alone in the grief of loss. I am going to arrange to visit you over the winter vacation. Stay strong, it isn't the end of the world. Nobody should have to go through this, and know that she will always be there with you, for she loved you deeply.  
Rowan."

Tearfully, I closed the letter and gave it to Charlie's owl.

"Take it to Charlie." I whispered painfully. "But wait, I have another letter."

I grabbed another piece of parchment, and I wrote this to my father.

"I am going to Romania to visit Charlie over the winter vacations. I'll go to the apparition shop at the station. I'll see you there if you go, or in the summer."

I gave this to the owl as well, telling it to give it to my father, and I watched as it flew away. I then headed to the bathroom. I had to go through this. I cleaned my face and put on a brave mask, and I headed down to dinner. Ron was already there, reading a letter.

"I can't believe this, Christmas at a school! Torture! My parents suddenly want to visit Charlie, and so they leave me to spend Christmas in a school. At least you're staying, mate." He said to Harry, still eyeing the letter.

"So you two are staying? Then you can keep on searching for Nicholas Flamel." Mione said.

"Are you going somewhere?" She asked me when I arrived. "If you stay you should search as well."

"No, I'm going." I said emotionlessly.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked me.

I nodded slowly.

"Where are you going?" Ron said insensibly, gaining a poke in the ribs from Hermione.

"Home." I lied.

"Hey! You get to visit your parents and I don't get to visit mine! No fair." He complained.

I couldn't help it, a tear escaped my eye, but I immediately wiped it off with the back of my hand , but not before Harry saw it

"Row, what happened?" Harry exclaimed, alarmed.

"Nothing." I said gravely.

"But..." He insisted.

I cut him off nastily. "I said nothing."

The three looked at me, shocked that I had talked to him like that.. Before they could say anything, I stalked off, going anywhere. I didn't realise I was lost until I calmed down. I was in a crossroad, with barely any light. Not caring what would happen, I tried a door, to see if I could recognize the room. I entered, surprised to find it was empty except for an intricate mirror.

I walked towards it, intrigued. I stood before it and stared at the reflection. I was standing there, hugging Melissa. I looked around me, but no-one was there. I looked back at it. Melissa was there, hugging me, just as a few seconds ago. I stared at it in wonder, feeling the tears starting to fall again. I didn't know how long I spent there, until I heard a small shuffling sound behind me. I whipped my head around, finding the headmaster standing there, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Good day, Professor Dumbledore." I greeted dully.

"Your friends are worried. You've been gone all night." He stated.

"I am sorry Headmaster, it won't happen again." I said monotonously.

His eyes were shadowed by worry for a second, but he hid it very well indeed. He looked to me. "If anything should be wrong, anything at all, I would apreciate it if you came to me." He offered.

"If I find myself in such a situation, I will." I lied.

He walked towards me. "You are a very powerful witch. That doesn't control your future, what shapes it is your emotions, I don't want you to go the wrong way, I hope you understand that."

I nodded, looking at the door.

"You can stay as long as you need." He said.

"I think I'll stay a bit more." I said emotionlessly.

He nodded and walked out the door. The rest of the night, I let out all my tears. By the time I started hearing footsteps around, I was dry, and looked terrible. I quickly wiped away the black stripes that had appeared in my face and put on some mascara and lipgloss. I brushed my hair through with my hands. Using my hand mirror, I saw I looked just as I normally did. But there was something wrong with my eyes. They weren't a rich dark brown anymore, they looked darker, nearly black. I sighed, looking at the mirror longingly one last time. I then came out, seeing as no footsteps could be heard anymore. I used a nearby passageway the twins had told me about, which took me near the Gryffindor common room. I thanked god it was Sunday, seeing as I would have been late to class otherwise. I sighed and went to change. I put on my Volleybal equipment and went outside, for an intensive session of volleybal, perfect to get rid of the tension.

The next week passed by mostly normal. My eyes never went back to their original color, and I didn't know why. Before I went to sleep, I always put a sound-proof charm around my beds, because of the nightmares that were surely to come. That way, nobody would know. It was Friday before anything happened. I was walking to Potions when Hermione aproached me.

"What is wrong?" She asked firmly.

"Nothing." I replied slowly.

"It doesn't seem like it." She said, a little heatedly.

"Does it?" I raised my eyebrow rudely.

She seemed a little scared of me. "Y-yes." She stuttered. I glared at her darkly. "No." She squeaked under the pressure.

"Thought so." I growled.

I didn't know what had just happened, but I just went with it.

I was sitting alone in my compartment when I heard the door boom open. It turned my head sharply. Standing at the door was Draco, his two goons behind him. He stepped forwards. "Look at this. Tiny weeny Rowy is all alone, why haven't her friends been with her all week?"

"Look at yourself Draco." I said calmly. "You don't have your friends around you, because you have none."

He turned red with anger, taking out his wand. He pointed it at me. I didn't take mine out, for I didn't want to be expelled, since. I couldn't pay bail like him. I just ducked at his expelliarmus. He turned even redder and took aim again. I tried to go out the door, but it was blocked, so I just stuck to avoiding the spells. The three were cackling.

Draco suddenly snapped. "Get her." He pointed at me, not thinking.

The two came inside, straight towards me. Goyle threw a punch wildly, which I easily ducked. Crabbe tried to grab me by the arm, but I slipped the way. It was like one of the fights the twins and I had for fun, minus the fun factor, here, it could hurt much more, and the two were much stronger. I ducked and sidestepped for about two intense minutes. I was getting more excited by the second. Excitement wasn't good, it made me unable to think clearly.

That point was proven when I ignored Goyle for a second, as I turned to avoid Crabbe's foot. I felt good for a second, until something hit me on my side. A gigantic fist hit pushed against the wall. Good thing the compartments were soundproof, or someone could get us in trouble. I quickly changed my opinion. I leaned against the wall, winded, and clutching my aching side. I couldn't breathe well after the intense sport and punch. I closed my eyes, small tears leaking from lack of air. The three laughed very hard at me. I clenched my teeth as I tried to breathe more steadily.

Draco spoke up. "Exactly. Tiny weeny Rowy is all alone, and unpwotected." He laughed. "Expelliarmus."

It was so sudden that I couldn't block it. I slammed against the wall painfully. The spell was very powerful for what I expected Draco's to be. My back was very sore. I clenched my teeth again, trying to find my wand in my pocket. It wasn't there. Draco produced it from his own backpocket, smirking.

He attacked again. It seemed he was very frustrated with something, and was taking it out on me. I cried out as my head hit the table. It didn't last long as I was pushed up towards the window. He threw my wand at me and stalked out, the other two slamming the door behind them.

I grabbed my wand and put it in my back pocket. I breathed in and out slowly, until I could stand up again. I got out my mirror, thankful that I didn't look beat up at all. I just had black streaks, which I easily fixed with a napkin and mascara. I then sat down again, waiting for the train to arrive, and swallowing my pride.

Soon, a voice boomed inside the train, announcing our arrival. I pressed the button on my trunk, and it became smaller. I stuffed it in my pocket. I walked out, immediately going into the muggle world. I took a taxi to Diagon Alley. There, I headed into the apparition shop. I headed to the front desk, where an old woman was taking care of the costumers.

"Good morning young lady, where to?" She asked.

"The dragon reservation in Romania." I said.

"That will be ten galleons, it's a long way." She said.

I put the money on the desktop.

"Very well, section three A2. Next!"

I walked to the man standing there, looking at the picture of the place so he could take me there. He held out his hand. I closed my eyes to keep out the awful sensation, and a second later, I was standing in front of the reservation, alone. Sighing, I headed to the left, where the workers lived. I headed to Charlie's home, where Melissa had previously lived in as well. The shutters were now black, and they were pulled down. I knocked on the door, despite how much I wanted to run away and hide.

Charlie was at the door. He looked terrible. He had bags under his eyes, and gigantic dark circles. His eyes were red, and his face tear-stained even now. He was obviously thinner, and his brown eyes were black like mine. He looked down at me, his eyes expressionless. Seeing who I was, he pulled me in, hugging me tight. I felt the tears on my head, and I started to cry as well. he led me into the house, still hugging me. we sat on the sofa. I looked around, looking at all the flower vases that were around.

"She loved flowers." He said sadly.

I nodded. "This sin't fair, she never deserved to..." I choked on the last word.

"You might want to see the pictures, it's the best memory." He said hoarsely.

I nodded, heading to the shelves. I opened the book, and didn't close it again until I was dry of tears, not even when Charlie's parents came.

Charlie seemed much better, with all the company. My parents were here as well. Charlie looked much healthier now, but it was plain to see they were worried about me. Everything reminded me of her, even anything related to magic. I was worse than when I'd come.

Halfway through our stay, I overheard a talk everyone was having, but me. I could see Charlie, Molly, Arthur and my parents there. At least they seemed to care about me, and made enough time to come and comfort me, and for this.

"She is too thin, this is bad for her." Molly said.

"She cries at the sight of anything, even magic. She cries at the sight of Charles, and at the sight of you two." Arthur said to my parents.

"She needs to get away from it all." My father sighed. "At least for the rest of the summer.

"She could go to the muggle world." Charlie said.

"She could go and stay with one of her best friends, the muggle ones." My mother said. "I think Olive."

"That is a good idea." Molly encouraged.

"I think this will be good for her." My mother said.

There was a general yes.

I knocked on Olive's house. She knew I was coming, and was undoubtedly excited. I was right, as I was nearly knocked to the floor by a petite figure.

"Rowan!" She squealed.

"Hey Olive." I said, trying to make my laugh more natural, less forced.

She looked at me up and down. "You look terrible."

Half term exams are coming up and I really need to study." I lied, albiet a little guiltily.

She nodded, seemingly understanding. "Yeah, mine are also after Christmas. It's so awesome you're spending New Year here! I whish you'd stayed for Christmas!"

I had skipped Christmas, since I was still mourning. I nodded tiredly.

"You really do seemed tired." She noted. "And thin, not good for Volleyball."

I smiled slightly. I might be thin, but I had been practicing more than ever, to get away from it all.

"Let's go in!" She exclaimed excitedly.

I was in the kitchen, watching humourlessly as Olive lectured her little brother, Mark, who was nine, about the cookie jar which had fallen when he tried to steal cookies before dinner. He looked really angry that she'd snatched away his cookie. His face was pouty and scrunched up, and he was slightly red. Suddenly, the pillow on the couch exploded, and the other, and the other, until all nine were a pile of goose feathers and ripped fabric.

I saw them both give me nervous glances. Mark was a wizard, and they didn't know, and didn't want others to know. I looked Olive straight in the eye. "Dod Mark do this?" I raised my eyebrow.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out, she simply nodded nervously. Then she manage a few words. "W-we don't know what's happening to him. When he gets mad, something weird happens."

"I know what's happening." I said seriously, my sister forgotten.

"What?" She asked increduously.

"Bring your parents down, I need to talk to them." I said.

Soon, we were all seated on the couch, the four looking at me nervously.

"You know what's wrong with him?" His father said.

I was offended by that. "There is nothing wrong with mark. In fact, he has a very special gift." I said, a little haughtily.

"What is that?" Olive asked sarcastically.

I brought my school trunk out of my pocket and pressed the button. They al marveled as it became bigger.

"This, is magic. Mostly, it is handed down genetically, but actually quite often, muggles, normal people, bear a child with magical powers. This child has many options. He can stay as a muggle, but his magic will become more powerful and big accidents will happen, or he can go to school. There are many schools. The closest, and most famous one is Hogwarts, where I have been going since September." I explained.

"You're like me?" Mark asked me boldly.

"Yeah, as are many others. If you want to go to Hogwarts, you can start in two years, when you're eleven..." I replied.

"H-he is a-a wizard..." Olive realised at last.

I was sitting in my own compartment, thinking of how going to Olive's had done both of us good. My father had come to explain everything I couldn't at the end of the summer. I had gotten over Melissa slightly, not breaking down at everything. My eyes were a rich brown again. The thing was, I couldn't face my friends again, specially Harry and Mione, who I'd treated so badly.

The next two weeks, things fell into place, except my friendships. The three now kept their distance. The only one who I ever talked to was Lavender, who wouldn't stop bothering me, as she usually did to everyone. That was until that night.

I was sitting in bed reading, as was Hermione. Pay was in the infermary, with a magic cold, and Lavender was trying to talk to me.

"So, like, can you give me your Transfig homework, because I have no idea, and I hate going to the library."

"Just go." I snapped to her.

"Please, I'll flunk!" She exclaimed.

"No, do your own work." I bit back.

She turned angry. "Gosh, like, who died and made you queen?"

I gasped, turning around, running to the bathroom, tears already falling. I locked the bathroom and put a silencing charm, and I broke down. I started to sob, letting out everything I'd felt in the past half of the summer and extra two weeks. I heard Hermione pound on the door and call for me, then have a fight with Lavender.

Everything was quiet by the time I came out. Lavender was in bed, and Hermioe as well, both asleep, or so I thought.

"Row?" Hermione asked softly, sitting up.

"What?" I asked, exhausted.

"What happened, really? Who..." She trailed off. "I didn't see you in your house the first two weeks, then I went skiing. Where were you?"

I sighed. "I went to Romania, along with Ron's parents."

"What happened, why did you go, why did you lie to us?"

"Hermione, I don't want to talk about this." I tried.

"Rowan, at least tell me why you treated Harry and I so badly." She insisted softly.

"Do you know anything about Charlie?" I asked.

"Uhm, he lives in Romania, and is marrying his fiancee in the summer. He works with dragons. That's all I know." She asked, confused.

"That's where you're wrong. He was going to marry, his fiancee, she got caught in a fight between two female dragons who were protecting their eggs. She didn't make it." My voice broke, and tears started to streak my face.

"So, you were close to her?" She guessed.

"Mione, I can't take it." I sobbed, feeling very vulnerable.

She sat next to me, hugging my shaking shoulders. "Yes, you were close, to Melissa, that's what her name was." She decided.

I cried harder. "I was closer to Melissa than anybody else, even my parents. Melissa, she was my older sister."

Hermione tensed up, extremely surprised, then she hugged me tighter, as my sobs intensified. There we sat nearly all night, in a very warm silence. Eventually, I was welcomed by darkness, as I fell asleep, no nightmares for once.

With Mione's help, I managed to tell the boys, and they welcomed me back, telling me everything. Apparently, Flamel had made the Philosopher's stone, and that was what Fluffy was guarding. Harry had heard Snape asking Quirrel for information, and they were now convinced that Snape wanted to steal it. But something sounded off, though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.


	6. Haha, Draco Is Truly A Coward

Over the following weeks, Quirrel seemed to hold his ground, sonce every time we passed the corridor, Fluffy was still growling inside, as we heard from outside. Also, exams started coming up, and we were busy most pf the time, though I easily managed it with volleyball included. We were in the library studying when the next dillema came up.  
I suddenly heard Ron say, "Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?  
"Just looking." He said nervously.  
"And what are you lot up to? You are not still looking for Flamel, are you?" He said suspiciously.  
"Oh, we found out who he is ages ago." Ron waved it off. "And we know what that dog is guarding, amd we wanted to know what's guarding the stone apart from Fluffy..." I kicked him.  
"Listen, come and see me later, I am not promising I will tell you anything, but do not go rabbiting about it in here, students are not supposed to know. They will think I have told you." He whispered.  
"See you later, then." I said firmly, giving him a chance to go.  
"What was he hiding behind his back?" Said Hermione thoughtfully.  
"He was in the Dragons section." I said automatically.  
"What pn earth is Hagrid up to?" Harry asked rhetorically.

An hour later, we were inside Hagrid's hut.  
"So, you wanted to ask me something?" He asked.  
"What is guarding the stone other than Fluffy?" I shot straight out.  
"I cannot tell you." He grumbled.  
"Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you do know, you know everything that goes on round here." said Hermione in a warm, flattering voice. Hagrid's beard twitched and I could tell he was smiling. "We only wondered who had done the guarding, really." Hermione went on. "We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you."  
Hagrid's chest swelled at these last words. Harry, Ron and I beamed at Hermione.  
"Well, I don't suppose it could hurt to tell you that ... let's see ... he borrowed Fluffy from me ... then some of the teachers did enchantments ... Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, Professor McGonagall..." he ticked them off on his fingers, "Professor Quirrell, and Dumbledore himself did something, of course. Hang on, I've forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Snape."  
"Snape?" Ron asked  
"Yeah... You'ew not still on about that, are you? Look, Snape helped protect the Stone, he's not about ter steal it.'  
"You're the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren't you, Hagrid?" said Harry anxiously. "And you wouldn't tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?"  
"Not a soul knows except me and Dumbledore," said Hagrid proudly.  
"Well, that's something." Harry muttered to us. "Hagrid, can we have a window open? I'm boiling."  
"Can't, Harry, sorry,' said Hagrid. I noticed him glance at the fire. I looked at it, too.  
"Hagrid... What's that?" Harry asked.  
I already knew what it was. In the very heart of the fire, underneath the kettle, was a huge, black egg.  
"Ah," said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard. "That's..."  
"Where did you get it, Hagrid?" said Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. "It must've cost you a fortune."  
"I won it," said Hagrid. "Last night. I was down in the village having a few drinks and got into a game of cards with a stranger. I think he was quite glad to get rid of it, to be honest."  
"But what are you going to do with it when it's hatched?" I asked.  
"Well, I've been doing some reading." said Hagrid, pulling a large book from under his pillow. "Got this outta the library, Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit... it's a bit outta date, of course, but it's all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, because their mothers breathe on them, see, and when it hatches, feed it on a bucket of brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. And see here... how to recognise different eggs... what I got there's a Norwegian Ridgeback. They're rare, them."  
He looked very pleased with himself, but Hermione didn't.  
"Hagrid, you live in a wooden house," she said.  
But Hagrid wasn't listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.  
So now we had something else to worry about: what might happen to Hagrid if anyone found out he was hiding an illegal dragon in his hut.  
"Wonder what it's like to have a peaceful life." Ron sighed, as in the evening we struggled through all the extra home work we were getting. Hermione had now started making revision timetables for Harry and Ron, too, though not for me since I did my ow. It was plain to see it was driving them mad. Then, one breakfast time, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had written only two words: It's hatching.  
Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn't hear of it.  
"Hermione, how many times in our lives are we going to see a dragon hatching?" Was his argument.  
"We've got lessons, we'll get into trouble, and that's nothing to what Hagrid's going to be in when someone finds out what he's doing..."  
"Shut up!" Harry whispered.  
Draco was only a few feet away and he had stopped dead to listen. How much had he heard? I didn't like the look on his face at all.  
Ron and Hermione argued all the way to Herbology, and in the end, Hermione agreed to run down to Hagrid's with the other two during morning break, though I didn't want to go. When the bell sounded from the castle at the end of the lesson, the three of them dropped their trowels at once and hurried away. I stalked off towards Draco. He smirked at me.  
"Here for a comeback? I'll win against you anytime." He said icily.  
"Don't worry, I was just going to kick your ass into outer space, and believe me, I can. But actually, I think I might prefer to hex you." I taunted.  
He paled, knowing that now that I could use my wand, I could kick his ass anytime. He ran off.  
The next morning, they told me of their plan about Norbert and Charlie. I said I wouldn't come, so I could take care of Malfoy, and Ron was in the infermary with a very swollen hand.  
That night, I stayed in the Great Hall until Draco went, then tried to follow him, but I was caught up by the current of students, and soon lost him. Feeling very defeated, I went back up.

The two, Draco and Neville were now in detention, since they'd been caught. At least, Norbert was gone.  
When they came back, Ron and I were asleep in the couches. I woke up as soon as. I heard the footsteps, but Ron shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harry roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harry began to tell us what had happened in the Forest. Harry paced up and down in front of the fire. He was shaking.  
"Snape wants the stone for Voldemort ... and Voldemort's waiting in the Forest ... and all this time we thought Snape just wanted to get rich ..."  
"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, as if he thought Voldemort could hear us.  
Harry wasn't listening. "Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done ... Bane was furious ... he was talking about interfering with what the planets say is going to happen ... They must show that Voldemort's coming back ... Bane thinks Firenze should have let Voldemort kill me ... I suppose that's written in the stars as well."  
"Will you stop saying the name!" Ron hissed.  
"So all I've got to wait for now is Snape to steal the Stone," Harry went on feverishly, "then Voldemort will be able to come and finish me off ... Well, I suppose Bane'll be happy."  
Hermione looked very frightened, but she had a word of comfort. "Harry, everyone says Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, You-Know- Who won't touch you. Anyway, who says the centaurs are right? It sounds like fortune-telling to me, and Professor McGonagall says that's a very imprecise branch of magic."  
The sky had turned light before we stopped talking. We went to bed, exhausted, our throats sore.


	7. Two Faces Knocks Me Out

I half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door. It was swelteringly hot, especially in the large classroom where we did our written papers. We had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell. We had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called us one by one into his class to see if we could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched us turn a mouse into a snuff-box... points were given for how pretty the snuff-box was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made us all nervous, breathing down our necks while we tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion.  
I did very well, and expected to have very good marks. Our very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and we'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until our exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told us to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, I couldn't help cheering with the rest.  
"That was far easier than I thought it would be" I said as we joined the crowds flocking out into the sunny grounds.  
Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterwards, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so we wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid, which was basking in the warm shallows.  
"No more revision." Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass. "You could look more cheerful, Harry, we've got a week before we find out how badly we've done, there's no need to worry yet."  
Harry was rubbing his forehead. "I wish I knew what this means!" he burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting... it's happened before, but never as often as this."  
"Go to Madam Pomfrey." Hermione suggested.  
"I don't think so. That is a curse scar, there's nothing to do but find out what is means, and Pomfrey will be of no help with that." I said lazily.  
"I'm not ill." said Harry. "I think it's a warning ... it means danger's coming ..."  
Ron couldn't get worked up, it was too hot. "Harry, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof Snape found out how to get past Fluffy He nearly had his leg ripped off once, he's not going to try it again in a hurry. And Neville will play Quidditch for England before Hagrid lets Dumbledore down."  
Harry nodded. Then, he suddenly jumped to his feet.  
"Where're you going?" Asked Ron sleepily.  
"I've just thought of something," said Harry. He had gone white. "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."  
"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up with him.  
"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harry, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"  
"What are you on about?" said Ron, but Harry, sprinting across the grounds towards the Forest, didn't answer.  
"You're very right." I admitted, not having any difficulty to keep up.  
Hagrid was sitting in an armchair outside his house; his trousers and sleeves were rolled up and he was shelling peas into a large bowl.  
"Hello." he said, smiling. "Finished your exams? Got time for a drink?'  
"Yes, please," said Ron, but Harry cut across him.  
"No, we're in a hurry. Hagrid, I've got to ask you something. You know that night you won Norbert? What did the stranger you were playing cards with look like?"  
"I don't know." said Hagrid casually, "he wouldn' take his cloak off." He saw the four of us look stunned and raised his eyebrows. "It's not that unusual, yeh get a lot o' funny folk in the Hog's Head... that's one of the pubs down in the village. Might have been a dragon dealer, mightn't he? I never saw his face, he kept his hood up."  
Harry sank down next to the bowl of peas. "What did you talk to him about, Hagrid? Did you mention Hogwarts at all?"  
"Might have come up," said Hagrid, frowning as he tried to remember. "Yeah ... he asked what I did, and I told him I was gamekeeper here... He asked a bit about the sorta creatures I look after ... so I told him ... and I said what I'd always really wanted was a dragon ... and then ... I can't remember too well, because he kept buying me drinks ... Let's see ... yeah, then he said he had the dragon egg and we could play cards for it if I wanted ... but he had to be sure I could handle it, he didn' want it to go to any old home ... So I told him, after Fluffy, a dragon would be easy ..."  
"And did he... did he seem interested in Fluffy?" Harry asked, clearly trying to keep his voice calm.  
"Well... yeah... how many three-headed dogs do you meet, even around Hogwarts? So I told him, Fluffy's a piece of cake if you know how to calm him down, just play him a bit of music and he'll go straight off to sleep..."  
Hagrid suddenly looked horrified. "I shouldn'ta told yeh that!" he blurted out. "Forget I said it! Hey... where're you goign?"  
We didn't speak to each other at all until we came to a halt in the Entrance Hall, which seemed very cold and gloomy after the grounds.  
"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harry. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy and it was either Snape or Voldemort under that cloak... it must've been easy once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"  
We looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing us in the right direction. We had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did we know anyone who had been sent to see him.  
"We'll just have to..." Harry began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.  
"What are you three doing inside?" It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.  
"We want to see Professor Dumbledore." said Hermione, rather bravely, I thought, for her standards.  
"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated, as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"  
"It's sort of secret," Harry said dumbly.  
"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London at once."  
"He's gone?" said Harry frantically. "Now?"  
"Professor Dumbledore is a very great wizard, Potter, he has many demands on his time..."  
"But this is important."  
"Something you have to say is more important than the Ministry of Magic, Potter?"  
"Look," said Harry, throwing caution to the winds, "Professor, it's about the Philosopher's Stone..."  
Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn't pick them up.  
"How do you know?" she spluttered.  
"Professor, I think... I know... that someone's going to try and steal the Stone. I've got to talk to Professor Dumbledore."  
She eyed him with a mixture of shock and suspicion. "Professor Dumbledore will be back tomorrow," she said finally, "I don't know how you found out about the Stone, but rest assured, no one can possibly steal it, it's too well protected."  
"But Professor..."  
"Potter, I know what I'm talking about." she said shortly. She bent down and gathered up the fallen books. "I suggest you all go back outside and enjoy the sunshine."  
But we didn't.  
"It's tonight," said Harry, once we were sure Professor McGonagall was out of earshot. "Snape's going through the trapdoor tonight. He's found out everything he needs and now he's got Dumbledore out of the way. He sent that note, I bet the Ministry of Magic will get a real shock when Dumbledore turns up."  
"But what can we..."  
Hermione gasped. We wheeled round.  
Snape was standing there. "Good afternoon," he said smoothly.  
We stared at him.  
"You shouldn't be inside on a day like this," he said, with an odd, twisted smile.  
"We were..." Harry began to say.  
"You want to be more careful," said Snape. "Hanging around like this, people will think you're up to something. And Gryffindor really can't afford to lose any more points, can they?"  
We turned to go back outside, but Snape called us back.  
"Be warned, Potter... any more night-time wanderings and I will personally make sure you are expelled. Good day to you."  
He strode off in the direction of the staff room. Out on the stone steps, Harry turned to us. "Right, here's what we've got to do,' he whispered urgently. "One of us has got to keep an eye on Snape... wait outside the staff room and follow him if he leaves it. Hermione, you'd better do that."  
"Why me?"  
"It's obvious," said Ron. "You can pretend to be waiting for Professor Flitwick, you know." He put on a high voice, "Oh Professor Flitwick, I'm so worried, I think I got question fourteen b wrong ..."  
"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, but she agreed to go and watch out for Snape.  
"And we'd better stay outside the third-floor corridor," Harry told us Ron and I. "Come on."  
But that part of the plan didn't work. No sooner had we reached the door separating Fluffy from the rest of the school than Professor McGonagall turned up again, and this time, she lost her temper.  
"I suppose you think you're harder to get past than a pack of enchantments!" she stormed. "Enough of this nonsense! If I hear you've come anywhere near here again, I'll take another fifty points from Gryffindor! Yes, Weasley, from my own house!"  
We went back to the common room. Harry had just said, "At least Hermione's on Snape's tail," when the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open and Hermione came in.  
"I'm sorry, Harry!" she wailed. "Snape came out and asked me what I was doing, so I said I was waiting for Flitwick, and Snape went to get him, and I've only just got away. I don't know where Snape went."  
"Well, that's it then, isn't it?" Harry said.  
We at him. He was pale and his eyes were glittering. "I'm going out of here tonight and I'm going to try and get to the Stone first."  
"You're mad!" said Ron.  
"You can't!' said Hermione. After what McGonagall and Snape have said? You'll be expelled!"  
"SO WHAT?" Harry shouted. "Don't you understand? If Snape gets hold of the Stone, Voldemort's coming back! Haven't you heard what it was like when he was trying to take over? There won't be any Hogwarts to get expelled from! He'll flatten it, or turn it into a school for the Dark Arts! Losing points doesn't matter any more, can't you see? D'you think he'll leave you and your families alone if Gryffindor win the House Cup? If I get caught before I can get to the Stone, well, I'll have to go back to the Dursleys and wait for Voldemort to find me there. It's only dying a bit later than I would have done, because I'm never going over to the Dark Side! I'm going through that trapdoor tonight and nothing you two say is going to stop me! Voldemort killed my parents, remember?"  
"He's right, you know?" I told them.  
"You're right, Harry." said Hermione in a small voice.  
"I'll use the Invisibility Cloak." said Harry. "It's just lucky I got it back."  
"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.  
"All... all three of us?" Harry said incredulously.  
"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?" I asked, shocked.  
"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled, too."  
"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve per cent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."  
After dinner the four of us sat nervously apart in the common room. Nobody bothered us; none of the Gryffindors had anything to say to Harry any more, after all. Hermione was skimming through all her notes, hoping to come across one of the enchantments they were about to try and break. Harry and Ron didn't talk much. I was thinking about what we were about to do. Slowly, the room emptied as people drifted off to bed.  
"Better get the Cloak." Ron muttered, as Lee Jordan finally left, stretching and yawning. Harry ran upstairs to his dormitory.  
"We'd better put the Cloak on here, and make sure it covers all four of us... if Filch spots one of our feet wandering along on its own..."  
"What are you doing?" said a voice from the corner of the room.  
Neville appeared from behind an armchair, clutching Trevor  
"Nothing, Neville, nothing," said Harry, hurriedly putting the Cloak behind his back.  
Neville stared at the three's guilty faces. I managed to hide it well.  
"You're going out again," he said.  
"No, no, no," said Hermione. "No, we're not. Why don't you go to bed, Neville?"  
I looked at the grandfather clock by the door. We couldn't afford to waste any more time, Snape might even now be playing Fluffy to sleep.  
"You can't go out," said Neville, "you'll be caught again. Gryffindor will be in even more trouble."  
"You don't understand," said Harry, "this is important."  
But Neville was clearly steeling himself to do something desperate.  
"I won't let you do it," he said, hurrying to stand in front of the portrait hole. "I'll... I'll fight you!"  
"Neville," Ron exploded, "get away from that hole and don't be an idiot ..."  
"Don't you call me an idiot!" said Neville. "I don't think you should be breaking any more rules! And you were the one who told me to stand up to people!"  
"Yes, but not to us," said Ron in exasperation. "Neville, you don't know what you're doing."  
He took a step forward and Neville dropped Trevor the toad, who leapt out of sight.  
"Go on then, try and hit me!" said Neville, raising his fists. "I'm ready!"  
Harry turned to me. "Do something," he said desperately.  
I stepped forward. "Neville," she said, "I'm really, really sorry about this." I raised my wand. "Petrificus Totalus!" I cried, pointing it at Neville.  
Neville's arms snapped to his sides. His legs sprang together. His whole body rigid, he swayed where he stood and then fell flat on his face, stiff as a board. I ran to turn him over. Neville's jaws were jammed together so he couldn't speak. Only his eyes were moving, looking at them in horror.  
"What've you done to him?" Harry whispered.  
"It's the full Body-Bind," said Hermione miserably before I could explain.  
"We had to, Neville, no time to explain," said Harry.  
"You'll understand later, Neville," said Ron, as we stepped over him and pulled on the Invisibility Cloak. We didn't fit, so I cast a disillusionment charm on myself.  
We managed to avoid Miss Norris and Peeves along the we got there, the door was already ajar.  
"Well, there you are," Harry said quietly. "Snape's already got past Fluffy."  
Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of us what was facing us.  
"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," Harry suddenly said. "You can take the Cloak, I won't need it now."  
"Don't be stupid," said Ron.  
"We're coming," I insisted,  
Harry pushed the door open. As the door creaked, low, rumbling growls met our ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.  
"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.  
"Looks like a harp." said Ron. "Snape must have left it there."  
"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harry.  
"Well, here goes ...'  
He put Hagrid's flute to his lips and blew. It wasn't really a tune, but from the first note the beast's eyes began to droop. Harry hardly seemed to draw breath. Slowly, the dog's growls ceased... it tottered on its paws and fell to its knees, then it slumped to the ground, fast asleep.  
"Keep playing," I warned Harry as the three slipped out of the Cloak and crept towards the trapdoor with me now visible. We could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as we approached the giant heads.  
"I think we'll be able to pull the door open," said Ron, peering over the dog's back. "Want to go first, Hermione?"  
"No, I don't!"  
"All right." Ron gritted his teeth and stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent and pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung up and open.  
"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.  
"Nothing... just black... there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop."  
"I'll go first." I offered, whispering  
"You want to go first? Are you sure?' said Ron. "I don't know how deep this thing goes."  
I peered over the edge. There was no sign of the bottom. I lowered himself through the hole until I was hanging on by my fingertips. Then I looked up at Harry and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send Hedwig to Dumbledore, right?"  
"Right," He said.  
"See you in a minute, I hope ..."  
And I let go. Cold, damp air rushed past me as I fell down, down, down and... FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump I landed on something soft. I sat up and felt around, me eyes not used to the gloom. It felt as though I was sitting on some sort of plant.  
"It's OK!" I called up to the light the size of a postage stamp which was the open trapdoor. "It's a soft landing, you can jump!"  
The three came down immediately,  
"What's this stuff?" were Ron's first words.  
I looked around, it dawning on me what this was in horror. The devil snare had already wrapped itself around my chest when I hadn't noticed, and was already reaching my chin. Before I could say anything, it covered my mouth. I simply relaxed and felt myself fall through.  
"It's Devil's Snare. Just relax and you'll fall through and drop into a tunnel!" I called.  
Next was Hermione, then Harry, and then Ron, who was shaking and white of terror.  
"This way," said Harry, pointing down a stone passageway which was the only way on. All we could hear apart from out footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downwards and I was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of the heart, he remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizards' bank. If we met a dragon...  
"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.  
I listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.  
"Do you think it's a ghost?"  
"I don't know ... sounds like wings to me." I stated.  
"There's light ahead... I can see something moving.'  
We reached the end of the passageway and saw before us a brilliantly lit chamber, its ceiling arching high above us. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy, wooden door.  
'Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.  
"Probably," said Harry. "They don't look very vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once ... Well, there's nothing for it, I'll run."  
He took a deep breath, covered his face with his arms and sprinted across the room. He reached the door untouched. He pulled the handle, but it was locked. We followed him. We tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge, not even when I tried the Alohomora Charm.  
"Now what?" said Ron.  
"These birds ... they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.  
We watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering... glittering?  
"They're not birds!" Harry said suddenly, "they're keys! Winged keys... look carefully. So that must mean ..." he looked around the chamber. "Yes... look! Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"  
"But there are hundreds of them!" Hermione exclaimed.  
I examined the lock on the door. "We're looking for a big, old-fashioned one... probably silver, like the handle."  
The three seized a broomstick each and kicked off into the air, soaring into the midst of the cloud of keys, I stayed. They grabbed and snatched but the bewitched keys darted and dived so quickly it seemed it was almost impossible to catch one. Not for nothing, though, was Harry the youngest Seeker in a century. He had a knack for spotting things other people didn't.  
After a minute's weaving about through the whirl of rainbow feathers, he exclaimed.  
"That one!" he called to the other two. "That big one... there... no, there... with bright blue wings... the feathers are all crumpled on one side."  
Ron went speeding in the direction that Harry was pointing, crashed into the ceiling and nearly fell off his broom.  
"We've got to close in on it!" Harry called, not taking his eyes off the key with the damaged wing. "Ron, you come at it from above... Hermione, stay below and stop it going down... and I'll try and catch it. Right, NOW!"  
Ron dived, Hermione rocketed upwards, the key dodged them both and Harry streaked after it; it sped towards the wall, Harry leant forward and with a nasty crunching noise, pinned it against the stone with one hand. Our cheers echoed around the high chamber. The three landed quickly and Harry ran to the door, the key struggling in his hand. He rammed it into the lock and turned... it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open, the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.  
"Ready?" Harry asked us, his hand on the door handle. We nodded. He pulled the door open.  
The next chamber was so dark we couldn't see anything at all. But as we stepped into it, light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight. We were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than we were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing us, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. We shivered slightly... the towering white chessmen had no faces.  
"Now what do we do?" Harry whispered.  
"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room."  
Behind the white pieces we could see another door.  
"How?" said Hermione nervously.  
"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."  
He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the knight turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.  
"Do we have to join you to get across?"  
The black knight nodded. Ron turned to us  
"This wants thinking about ..." he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces ..."  
We stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Finally he said, "Now, don't be offended or anything, but neither of you are that good at chess..."  
"We're not offended," i waved it off quickly. 'Just tell us what to do."  
"Well, Harry, you take the place of that bishop, and Hermione, you go there instead of that castle. Rowan, you should be the queen."  
"What about you?" I asked.  
"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.  
The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, the queen and a castle turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board leaving four empty squares which we took.  
"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes ... look ..."  
A white pawn had moved forward two squares. Ron started to direct the black pieces. They moved silently wherever he sent them.  
'Harry... move diagonally four squares to the right." Ron ordered.  
Our first real shock came when their other knight was taken. The white queen smashed him to the floor and dragged him off the board, where he lay quite still, face down.  
"Had to let that happen," said Ron, looking shaken. "Leaves you free to take that bishop, Hermione, go on."  
Every time one of our men was lost, the white pieces showed no mercy. Soon there was a huddle of limp black players slumped along the wall. Twice, Ron only just noticed in time that Harry and Hermione were in danger. He himself darted around the board taking almost as many white pieces as they had lost black ones. "We're nearly there," he muttered suddenly. "Let me think... let me think ..."  
The white queen turned her blank face towards him.  
"Yes ..." said Ron softly, "it's the only way ... I've got to be taken."  
"NO!" Harry and Hermione shouted. I stayed still, thinking of another way.  
'That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I'll make my move and she'll take me... that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harry!"  
"But..."  
"Do you want to stop Snape or not?"  
"Ron..."  
"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"  
I sighed, there was nothing else for it.  
"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go... now, don't hang around once you've won."  
He stepped forward and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard around the head with her stone arm and he crashed to the floor, Hermione screamed but stayed on her square... the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out. Shaking, Harry moved three spaces to the left. The white king took off his crown and threw it at Harry's feet. We had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear. With one last desperate look back at Ron, we went through the door.  
"What if he's..." Hermione choked on her next words.  
"He'll be all right," said Harry, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself. "What do you reckon's next?"  
"We've had Sprout's, that was the Devil's Snare... Flitwick must've put charms on the keys... McGonagall transfigured the chessmen to make them alive... that leaves Quirrell's spell, and Snape's ..." I said.  
We had reached another door.  
"All right?" Harry whispered.  
"Go on."  
Harry pushed it open. A disgusting smell filled our nostrils, making us pull our robes up over our noses. Eyes watering, we saw, flat on the floor in front of us, a troll even larger than the one I had tackled, out cold with a bloody lump on its head.  
"I'm glad we didn't have to fight that one," Harry whispered, as we stepped carefully over one of its massive legs. "Come on, I can't breathe."  
He pulled open the next door, hardly daring to look at what came next... but there was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.  
"Snape's," said Harry. "What do we have to do?"  
We stepped over the threshold and immediately a fire sprang up behind us in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; it was purple. At the same instant, black flames shot up in the doorway leading onwards. We were trapped.  
"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles.  
I came to stand next to her and read it out loud.  
Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind, Two of us will help you, whichever you would find, One among us seven will let you move ahead, Another will transport the drinker back instead, Two among our number hold only nettle wine, Three of us are killers, waiting hidden in line. Choose, unless you wish to stay here for evermore, To help you in your choice, we give you these clues four: First, however slyly the poison tries to hide You will always find some on nettle wine's left side; Second, different are those who stand at either end, But if you would move onwards, neither is your friend; Third, as you see clearly, all are different size, Neither dwarf nor giant holds death in their insides; Fourth, the second left and the second on the right Are twins once you taste them, though different at first sight."  
Hermione let out a great sigh and I saw that she was smiling, the very last thing I felt like doing. I was smart, but not very good with riddles.  
"Brilliant," said Hermione. "This isn't magic... it's logic...ma puzzle."  
A lot of the greatest wizards haven't got an ounce of logic, they'd be stuck in here for ever."  
"But so will we, won't we?" Harry asked stupidly,  
"Of course not," said Hermione. "Everything we need is here on this paper. Seven bottles: three are poison; two are wine; one will get us safely through the black fire and one will get us back through the purple."  
"But how do we know which to drink?"  
"Give me a minute."  
Hermione read the paper several times. Then she walked up and down the line of bottles, muttering to herself and pointing at them. At last, she clapped her hands. "Got it," she said. "The smallest bottle will get us through the black fire... towards the Stone."  
"There's only enough there for one of us," he said. "That's hardly one swallow."  
We looked at each other. "Which one will get you back through the purple flames?" I asked.  
Hermione pointed at a rounded bottle at the right end of the line.  
"You drink that," I said, "Get Ron and then owl Dumbledore," i sighed. "Harry, you go on, I'll stay here until help comes. Oh, and Hermione, grab brooms from the flying key room, they'll get you out of the trapdoor and past Fluffy." I said.  
They both nodded gravely, and soon, I was left alone. I was picking at my nails when I heard a liquidy sound. The bottles were rfilling. I looked at the paper, it was the same, which ment the bottles were the same. I immediately drank the one to go forwards. It felt like my insides had been frozen as I went right through the fire.  
The person at the place wasn't Snape, it was Quirrel. And Harry was tied up, looking at the mirror of Erised.  
"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I travelled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it ... Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me ... decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me ..."  
He cut himself off imediately when he saw me, he sent a quick curse, which I managed to dodge. I leaped out of the way of another one, which was as fast as a comet, until the third one hit its mark. I was familiar with it, from the books of DADA I'd learnt. I crumpled, managing not to cry out as the Cruciatus hit me. It kept going, stabbing me with white hot knifes for a few more seconds, and I cried out, tears leaking. It soon stopped, but I didn't get back up. I lay there, on my side, trying to breathe properly. This was much worse than the time I was punched by Draco's goons.  
"Rowan!" Harry called out.  
I couldn't reply, as I was suddenly hit by a non-verbal stupefy, and I fell unconcious.  
***Harry***  
No! Rowan was lying her side, heaving, when the fourth curse hit her. She stopped moving, and her eyes closed. She seemed dead! She was dead! I turned to Quirrel, enraged.  
***Rowan***  
I opened my eyes slowly. I was aching all over. I couldn't get up. I turned my head painfully. I was in the infermary. I could hear muffled voices.  
"Honestly, to use the Cruciatus on such a young girl..." It was madame pomfrey. "Her body couldn't take it, even for such a short time. I had to hook her up to some muggle machines, with potions though."  
"Yes, I fear that she might not be right in the mind after this. If she does keep her head, I fear there is much more to come. Her future is most probably marked with pain, with the early omens of a loved one's death and the cruciatus." Said the old headmaster.  
I raised my arm, finding that there was a needle in it. I could feel the cold potion pumping in, trying to cancel out the effect of the curse. The curtains were drawn, and Ponfrey and the headmaster came in. They were both looking very glum.  
"I heard that. I'm pretty sure I'm sane." I croaked.  
The two smiled in relief. The headmaster sat at the edge of the bed, and Pomfrey bustled out to get something.  
"You must rest, Rowan. Madame Pomfrey will get you some dreamless sleep potion, that way, you will be healed by the end of year feast." He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling now, from behind his half-moon spectacles.  
I nodded, a bit sad I'd miss more time. The nurse came back in, drawing the curtains completely. She handed me a vial. The two left, and left me to drink it. I quickly gulped it down and placed the empty vial on the table next to the bed. It immediately started to take effect. I sleepily looked toward the door as it started to open. Harry, Ron and Hermione walked in, and started runnong when they saw I was awake. I could barely hold my eyes open.  
"Dreamless sleep potion, so I'll be able to go to the feast." I muttered.  
The three still looked very happy as I plunged into unconciousness.

It was nearing the afternoon on the day of the feast when I woke up. I was immediately ushered out, as the feast had just started. I was a bit wobbly on my legs. I went to a bathroom first, and saw that my usual mascara and lipgloss were in place, as well as my hair, curtsey of Madame Pomfrey. I'd have to thank her later.  
When I walked in the already full hall, there was a sudden hush and then everybody started talking loudly at once. I slipped into a seat between Harry and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tried to ignore the fact that people were standing up to look at me and Harry. Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived moments later. The babble died away.  
"Another year gone!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were ... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts ... Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding and the points stand thus: in fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw have four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."  
A storm of cheering and stamping broke out from the Slytherin table. I could see Draco banging his goblet on the table. It was a sickening sight.  
"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account." The room went very still. The Slytherins' smiles faded a little. "Ahem, I have a few last-minute points to dish out. Let me see. Yes ... First... to Mr Ronald Weasley ..."  
Ron went purple in the face; he looked like a radish with bad sunburn. "for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."  
Gryffindor cheers nearly raised the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seemed to quiver. Percy could be heard telling the other Prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!" At last there was silence again.  
"Second... to Miss Hermione Granger ... for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Hermione buried her face in her arms; I strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves... We were a hundred points up.  
"Third, to Miss Rowan Zar... For managing to let things play out instead of taking things onto her own hands, the best strategy at times, and for trying to save her friend in the face of danger, which got her nearly two weeks in the infermary, I award another fifty points."  
There was much more cheering.  
'Fourth... to Mr Harry Potter ..." said Dumbledore. The room went deadly quiet. "...for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."  
The din was deafening. Those who could add up while yelling themselves hoarse knew that Gryffindor now had five hundred and twent-two points... way more than Slytherin. We had won the cup.  
Dumbledore raised his hand. The room gradually fell silent. "There are all kinds of courage," said Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom. Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, "we need a little change of decoration.'  
He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape was shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible forced smile. He caught Harry's eye and Harry knew at once that Snape's feelings towards him hadn't changed one jot. This didn't worry Harry. It seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts. It was the best evening of Harry's life, better than winning at Quidditch or Christmas or knocking out mountain trolls ... he would never, ever forget tonight.

I had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. To my pleasure, I had gotten and Outstanding on everything, save for History of magic, which had an S. The exit from themtrain was euphoric for everyone, as all had passed, at least in first year. And it would keep that way during the summer, at least for most.


	8. Molly Is Scary, Even From A Distance

The summer, I spent doing homework, volleyball, and meeting my friends. I would go to Hermione's and Ron's often. I didn't go to Harry's because they wouldn't welcome me. Anyways, soon, the letters arrived, I went to diagon alley's with Mione, and a few days later, it was time to leave. The only thing remarkable had been a very nice necklace I'd bought, which was supposed to ward off evil, but obviously a false. It was just so awesome I had to get it. It was a leather strap with a feather hanging form it, really cheaply made.

Oh well, so I was sitting in the compartment, chatting with Mione and Ginny, wondering where the boys could be when the year started off. I was talking, and at the same time looking out the window when I spotted it. It was a light blue car, which was flying near us, and the drivers, our two missing friends, Ron and Harry.

"What the hell is that, Ginny?" I asked her, pointing at the car.

"That would be my dad's flying car. The invisibility must have broken down." She squeaked.

"Crap, they're going to be in trouble." I mused evilly. Then I turned serious. "They won't get away with this, I just hope they aren't expelled."

"Since when do you care about trouble in school?" Ginny asked. "You sound like my mother."

Next thing, she was on the ground, trying to ward off my tickles.

"Take it back!" I was shouting.

"But it's true." She replied.

I tickled her more.

"Ok, ok, I give up!" She exclaimed.

"Good." I said, satisfied. Getting up, I looked out the compartment door. I saw Draco hide.

Raising my eyebrow, I opened the door, came out, and closed it behind me. I crossed my arms and looked at him expectantly.

"I was looking for Milicent." He tried.

"Milicent is in your compartment." I stated. "What are you doing, spying on us?" I asked.

"I don't have to answer to you, filthy half-breed." He spit out.

"Half-breed?" I asked questioningly.

"Oh, you don't know." He said cruelly.

"Know what?" I asked, confused.

"Hmm, interesting. Wittle Rowy doesn't know who she is." He cooed mockingly.

I stared at him in surprise. "What..." I trailed off.

"I know many things you don't, the good thing of being a superior being. For example, your sister died last year." He said sharply.

I froze in place. I had tried so hard to ward off that thought, and it had just hit me full blast when I was the most unprepared. I glared at him. He simply smirked and walked away. As soon as he was out of sight, I ran to the bathroom. I sat on the cold tiles and sobbed. I felt very weak. Why could Draco Malfoy always kick me in my weak spot? I sat there nearly all morning, even when Hermione started calling around for me.

By midday, I was alright again. I didn't go to Hermione and Ginny's compartmemt though, I sat in one on my own, pondering. I rested my head on the window, and soon, I was asleep. My dreams came and went, none really staying, as of they were just swirls of colors and sounds.

I woke up when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see who it was. There, was the person I had least expected. Katie Bell, a girl a year older than me was there. She was looking at me softly.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing." I said, wiping away the dry tracks of tears.

"That isn't true. You can tell me." She said, hugging me. She reminded me of having an older sister, hugging me.

"My sister died last year." I sniffled.

"I'm sorry. You were just reminded of her somehow, weren't you?" She guessed.

"Yes." I replied meeky.

"Maybe you shouldn't try to forget her. Maybe you should talk about her to someone. She suggested. "That helped me when my dog died."

I nodded. "Would you listen to me?" I asked skeptically.

"Sure. Go on, shoot." She said.

I spent the afternoon telling her everything about my sister. She was very much like her, and very patient.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked just after we changed.

"Yeah, thanks Katie." I smiled.

"Anytime. You're like the little sister I never had." She beamed.

"Thanks, I think I should go to my friends, they'll be worried."

She nodded, and I headed towards the compartment. I was recieved with a gigantic hug from Hermione. "Where in the world were you? One second you were outside confronting Malfoy, and the next you're gone, what happened?"

"I was talking with Katie Bell. She's really nice." I said simply.

They looked at me suspiciously, but said nothing more.

Hermione and I dashed straight towards the two boys, who were trying to figure out the password for the common room

"Harry, Ron!" I called out. " We were worried you'd been expelled!"

"Well, we haven't been expelled," Harry assured us.

"We saw the car, flying beside the train." said Hermione, sounding almost as severe as Professor McGonagall.

"Skip the lecture," said Ron impatiently, "and tell us the new password."

"It's wattlebird,'" said Hermione impatiently, "but that's not the point-..."

She was cut off by the whole house as we entered. clapping engulfed the two, and I clapped along. They did have quite some nerve.

,Brilliant!" yelled Lee Jordan. "Inspired! What an entrance! Flying a car right into the Whomping Willow, people'll be talking about that one for years..."

"Good for you," said a fifth year patting Harry on the back as though he'd just won a marathon.

Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd and said together, "Why couldn't we've come in the car, eh?"

Ron was scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, but I could see one person who didn't look happy at all. Percy was visible over the heads of some excited first years, and he seemed to be trying to get near enough to start telling them off. Harry nudged Ron in the ribs and nodded in Percy's direction. Ron got the point at once.

"Got to get upstairs... bit tired," he said, and the two of them started pushing their way toward the door on the other side of the room, which led to a spiral staircase and the dormitories.

"Night," Harry called back to Hermione and I.

Hermione was very pissed off at the two in the morning, and barely spoke to them, especially after the incident of the letter.

I had only just started my porridge when, sure enough, there was a rushing sound overhead and a hundred or so owls streamed in, circling the hall and dropping letters and packages into the chattering crowd. A big, lumpy package bounced off Neville's head and, a second later, something large and gray fell into Hermione's jug, spraying us all with milk and feathers.

"Errol!" said Ron, pulling the bedraggled owl out by the feet. Errol slumped, Unconscious, onto the table, his legs in the air and a damp red envelope in his beak.

"Oh, no..." Ron gasped.

"It's all right, he's still alive," said Hermione, prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger.

"It's not that... it's that ."

Ron was pointing at a howler adressed to him.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"She's... she's sent me a Howler," said Ron faintly.

"You'd better open it, Ron," said Neville in a timid whisper. "It'll be worse if you Don't. My gran sent me one once, and I ignored it and" he gulped. "it was horrible."

"What's a Howler?" Harry asked.

But Ron's whole attention was fixed on the letter, which had begun to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Neville urged. "It'll all be over in a few minutes..."

Ron stretched out a shaking hand, eased the envelope from Errol's beak, and slit it open. Neville and I covered our ears.

"...STEALING THE CAR, I WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN SURPRISED IF THEY'D EXPELLED YOU, YOU WAIT TILL I GET HOLD OF YOU, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FATHER AND I WENT THROUGH WHEN WE SAW IT WAS GONE..."

Mrs. Weasleys yells, a hundred times louder than usual, made the plates and spoons rattle on the table, and echoed deafeningly off the stone walls. People throughout the hall were swiveling around to see who had received the Howler, and Ron sank so low in his chair that only his crimson forehead could be seen.

"...LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, I THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME, WE DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS, YOU AND HARRY COULD BOTH HAVE DIED. I'M ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED... YOUR FATHER'S FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK, IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT AND IF YOU PUT ANOTHER TOE OUT OF LINE WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT BACK HOME."

A ringing silence fell. The howler, which had dropped from Ron's hand, burst into flames and curled into ashes. Harry and Ron sat stunned, as though a tidal wave had just passed over them. A few people laughed and, gradually, a babble of talk broke out again.

Hermione closed Voyages with Vampires and looked down at the top of Ron's head.

"Well, I don't know what you expected, Ron, but you..."

"Don't tell me I deserved it," snapped Ron.

The four of us left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. At least the Howler had done one good thing: Hermione seemed to think they had now been punished enough and was being perfectly friendly again.

As we neared the greenhouses we saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. We had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart. Professor Sprout's arms were full of bandages. Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

"Oh, hello there!" he called, beaming around at the assembled students. "Just been showing Professor Sprout the right way to doctor a Whomping Willow! But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have met several of these exotic plants on my travels..."

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" said Professor Sprout, who was looking distinctly disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. We had only ever worked in greenhouse one before... greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Professor Sprout took a large key from her belt and unlocked the door. I caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer mingling with the heavy perfume of some giant, umbrella-sized flowers dangling from the ceiling. I entered as Harry was held back by Lockhart.

Professor Sprout stood behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different colored ear muffs were lying on the bench.

Harry re-entered just as she started talking. "We'll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Hermione and I had our hands into the air first. She chose Mione.

"Mandrake, or Mandragora, is a powerful restorative," said Hermione, sounding as usual as though she had swallowed the textbook. "It is used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand narrowly missed Harry's glasses as both of ours shot up again.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly, before she could choose

"Precisely. Take another ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy. I just stood back and waited for the last one to be there. I didn't realise it would be such a mistake.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right... earmuffs on ."

I sighed as the plants started screaming, though i was muffled. This was so annoying, I had to get out of here. As soon as we took our earmuffs off, I raised my hand.

"Yes Miss Zar?"

"I don't feel well, can I go to the infermary?" I lied.

"It might be a side effect of poorly fitting muffs." She said. "Yes, you may go."

I nearly bounced up, but instead, I walked out normally, keeping up the pretense until I was out of sight. I immediately ran to the common room. There was no way I would have stayed to replant crying mandrake babies. That was boring, and if I didn't, it meant I could have some free time. I went straight to my room. I took my favorite muggle book, Because of Winn-Dixie and sat on my bed. In the two next hours I had, maybe I would be able to finish it.

Turning a bettle into a button was a piece of cake. All I had to do was flick my wand and say the worlds mindlessly, and I had a jade coloured button, perfectly shaped and all. Ron was having problems. He had patched up his wand with some borrowed Spellotape, but it was damaged beyond repair. It kept crackling and sparking at odd moments, and every time Ron tried to transfigure his beetle it engulfed him in thick gray smoke that smelled of rotten eggs. Unable to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and had to ask for a new one. Professor McGonagall wasn't pleased.

"What now?" I asked Mione.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing her schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

We had lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in Voyages with Vampires again. Harry and Ron stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes, and I started to set the ball to myself, beating my own record.

I suddenly became aware that we were being closely watched. Looking up, I saw a very small, mousy-haired boy, clutching an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harry looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harry? I'm... I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking a tentative step forward. "I'm in Gryffindor, too. D'you think... would it be all right if... can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

"A picture?" Harry repeated blankly.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures'll move ." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you" he looked imploringly at Harry, "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

"Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos , Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harry Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harry angrily, his fists clenching. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

"Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want to start any trouble or your Mommy'll have to come and take you away from school." He put on a shrill, piercing voice. " If you put another toe out of line..."

A knot of Slytherin fifth-years nearby laughed loudly at this.

"Weasley would like a signed photo, Potter," smirked Malfoy. "It'd be worth more than his family's whole house..."

Ron whipped out his Spellotaped wand, but Hermione shut Voyages with Vampires with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward us, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harry started to speak but he was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around his shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harry!"

Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harry eyed Draco, who was escaping.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the rest of us, clasping Harry's shoulders.

Sighing, Hermione, Ron and I headed to his classroom. I sat next to Hermione at the front, but only because she asked me to. I doubted we were going to learn anything with that blonde baboon. When Harry arrived, he sat at te back with Ron.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Neville Longbottom's copy of Travels with Trolls , and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

He waited for them to laugh; a few people smiled weakly.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books, well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about,bjust to check how well you've read them, how much you've taken in..."

When he had handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "You have thirty minutes... start now!"

I looked down at my paper and read:

1. What is Gilderoy Lockhart s favorite color?

2. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to:

54. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class. I smiled wickedly at the thought of what I had written. I didn't mind the detentions.

"Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in Year with the Yeti . And a few of you need to read Wanderings with Werewolves more carefully ... I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples... though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogdeds Old Firewhisky!" He gave us another roguish wink. Seamus and Dean Thomas, who were sitting next to us, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, on the other hand, was listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned her name.

"... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions... good girl! In fact" he flipped her paper over, "full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?"

Hermione raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so... to business..."

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now... be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held our breathw, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that even Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" He smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not... they're not very dangerous , are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right, then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them!" And he opened the cage.

It was pandemonium. The pixies shot in every direction like rockets. Two of them seized Neville by the ears and lifted him into the air. Several shot straight through the window, showering the back row with broken glass. The rest proceeded to wreck the classroom more effectively than a rampaging rhino. They grabbed ink bottles and sprayed the class with them, shredded books and papers, tore pictures from the walls, up-ended the waste basket, grabbed bags and books and threw them out of the smashed window; within minutes, half the class was sheltering under desks and Neville was swinging from the iron chandelier in the ceiling.

"Come on now... round them up, round them up, they're only pixies," Lockhart shouted.

He rolled up his sleeves, brandished his wand, and bellowed, " Peskipiksi Pesternomi! "

It had absolutely no effect; one of the pixies seized his wand and threw it out of the window, too. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk, narrowly avoiding being squashed by Neville, who fell a second later as the chandelier gave way.

The bell rang and there was a mad rush toward the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, caught sight of Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were almost at the door, and said, "Well, I'll ask you three to just nip the rest of them back into their cage. Miss Zar, come with me." He swept past them beside me, and shut the door quickly behind us.

We walked to his office. He sat and looked at me, smiling idiotically.

"I understand why you did what you did." He said, smiling still.

"I doubt it." I replied.

His smile became more forced. "You admire me, and are jealous. Jealousy causes hate."

"You see, it is quite the contrary." I started. "I admire the people who actually did the things you say you did. You are a fake, but a good deciever, I must say."

His smile slipped. "I did do that all."

"You see, I doubt it. I checked for proof. How is it that you were at the carnival, a celebration for the werewolf incident, at the exact same time as you stopped the banshee?" I asked.

He looked at me, gobsmacked. "You are one smart witchling. I am very sorry for what I have to do. Thing is, they will never be able to trace it back to me, and it isn't removable." He looked at me thoughtfully. "I guess, since the beggining of the summer."

"What? That is illegal!" I reached for my wand, but it wasn't there. Crap, my backpack, which I'd left for my friends to take. I looked at him, horrorized. "I'll catch you again." I raised my eyebrow and closed my eyes.

"Obliviate!" And blackness engulfed me as I was sent flying into the air by a powerful memory spell, level six of eight to be exact.


	9. Who Is Thick Enough To Fall For That?

I got up slowly, immediately alert. What in the world? I was in a big room, full of piles and piles of discarded objects. I couldn't see very far, since my view was blocked. I looked down. I had my uniform on. I looked around, was my wand there? Yes. It was in my pocket. I used it to clean my clothes, which were a bit dusty, then fixed a few tears. I looked around, maybe there was a mirror. I nearly screamed when one popped up in front of me. I waited for my heart rate to calm down then looked in. I was a mess. My temple had a shallow cut, which I immediately fixed up. Other than that, I was just very dirty, an easy fix, but my hair was messy, and my makeup, which I had already taken off, had been all messed up. Like the mirror, at that thought, a table with the supplies I needed popped up next to me. I combed my hair, then used hairspray to give it volume. I then put on mascara and some grape lipgloss. After a minute, I also put on some eyeliner.

That was better. I looked around, the door was nowhere to be seen. The room had given me things, why not now? "Uhm, room, where's the door?" I asked to the air.

The objects started moving making a passageway towards the door, which was a very large wooden one. I walked towards it, limping slightly. My ankle was obviously sprained. I stopped for a second and asked for a medicine book. I fixed it with a spell in it, then headed outside. The castle was dark, and the windows showed it was a clear, starry night. The hallway was deserted. Crap, who did I have to go to now? Even if it was the same night, which I doubted it was, I would have been reported missing. Maybe I had to go to old Dumbles's office? It was the closest one after all. I sighed and started walking towards the office. I stopped when I saw the gargoyle was in front of me. Why had I forgotten about that?

"Blow Pops." I tried.

"Milky way, Bertie bott's every flavor beans, Mars bars, Gum drops, spice devils." Everyone who knew of Dumbledore knew he was addicted to candy. I thought as the Gargoyle revealed a stairway. I steeped on it and it took me up. It stopped right in front of the door. I knocked slowly but surely.

"Come in." He called.

I opened the heavy door slowly, to find Professor MacGonagall there, talking with old Dumbles. At the sight of me, her eyebrows shot up and she ran over. That answered it, the school thought I was missing.

"Miss Zar! Where in the world have you been for the past two days!?" She asked.

"Uhm, two days?" I asked dumbly, I was starting to sound like Ronald.

"What happened, Miss Zar." Dumbledore asked, going around his desk and toward us calmly.

"Uhm, I was going to Lo... Professor Lockhart's office with him... I don't know what happened. I just woke up in this weird room which gives you things when you ask for them, around the corner." I said, trying hard to remember.

"The room of requirement." Professor MacGonagall stated. "You don't know what happened?" She asked.

"No, not really." I said, a bit embarassed that I couldn't help.

"Miss Zar, would you let me check if I can find anything?" Dumbledore asked.

I knew what he was talking about, legilimency. I had to bring the occlumency barriers I'd had since I was nine down. I did so easilier than I thought it would be, then nodded, closing my eyes. I saw the class as it had been, then Lockhart telling me to come with him. Then, there was a sudden stop, and after a few minutes, I saw myself wake up. The experience ended, and I now was back at the office, breathing heavily.

"What is it Albus?" MacGonagall asked a worried Headmaster.

"It seems her memory was erased, with an Obliviate, since I cannot reverse it." He replied.

I tried to calm myself down. She looked at me and conjured a glass of water. I drank it thirstily.

"Do you need to go to the infermary?" Asked the headmaster.

"No." I replied.

"Well then, go to your common room, professor, please accompany her then come back here. Miss Zar, you and your three friends are excused from tomorrow's classes." He said, thinking deeply.

"Miss Zar." Said the professor as she guided me through the walls.

"Yeah?" I asked.

"You might want to watch out for Miss Granger, she will have an explosive reaction, if I am correct." She smiled, opening the door to the empty common room.

I walked in silently and headed to my dorm. Lavender and Parvati were sleeping, but Hermione wasn't even there. I heard the flush of the toilet and I turned, finding myself face to face with my best friend. At the sight of me, she launched herself and hugged me very tight, not letting me breathe.

"Stop, 'Mione, can't breathe." I gasped.

She pulled back. "Oh my god, what happened? Dumbledore said you were reprimanded by Professor Lockhart then left and disappeared somehow!" She whispered.

"I don't know, I don't remember anything past getting out of the classroom." I sighed.

"Come on, we have to get the boys!" She exclaimed, plainly euphoric.

"But..." I started to complain.

She dragged me out and towards the doorm, opening it quietly. Ron was asleep, but Harry was reading a book for Charms.

"Hey Harry." I saluted.

He looked up, and his eyes widened when he saw it was Hermione and I. "Rowan!" He got up and also hugged me, but less painfully. "We were so worried! We haven't been able to sleep for the past two nights!" He exclaimed lowly.

I looked pointedly at Ron, who was snoring loudly.

"That's a different case." Harry laughed. "He won't wake now, you'll have to talk to him tomorrow."

"Why don't we go down to the common room?" Hermione suggested.

We nodded and headed down the stairs sans Ronald.

The next few days were taken up by meetings and the retelling of my story, Harry avoiding Lockhart and Colin Creevy, and studying the way only Hermione could make us.

About a week later, it was time for Harry's and Ron's detentions. Professor MacGonagall had approached them during the week, saying that that Friday evening, Ron had to clean trophies, and Harry had to answer fanmail with Lockhart. When the devil later approached us, he told me that he was sorry to say I wasn't excused from detention for that day, and had to come with Harry.

That night, Harry and I dragged our feet along the second-floor corridor to Lockhart's office. He knocked, and when he opened, Lockhart beamed down at us.

"Ah, here are the scalawags!" he said. "Come in, Harry, Miss Zar, come in..."

Shining brightly on the walls by the light of many candles were countless framed photographs of Lockhart. He had even signed a few of them. Another large pile lay on his desk.

"You can address the envelopes!" Lockhart told us, as though this was a huge treat.

"This first one's to Gladys Gudgeon, bless her... huge fan of mine..."

The minutes snailed by. We let Lockhart's voice wash over us, occasionally saying, "Mmm" and "Right" and "Yeah." Now and then I caught a phrase like, "Fame's a fickle friend, Harry," or "Celebrity is as celebrity does, remember that." Directed only to Harry.

The candles burned lower and lower, making the light dance over the many moving faces of Lockhart watching him. I moved my aching hand over what felt like the thousandth envelope, writing out Veronica Smethley's address. It must be nearly time to leave , I thought miserably, wishing I could just fly out the window with my broom, please let it be nearly time...

And then he heard something.. something quite apart from the spitting of the dying candles and Lockhart's prattle about his fans.

It was a hiss, a hiss to chill the bone marrow, a noise of breathtaking, ice-cold venom.

"Hasss... Hasssasha... Sohshosa... Sohshossss... Soshohasssahsh..."

I gave a huge jump.

"What?" Harry said loudly.

"I know!" said Lockhart. "Six solid months at the top of the best-seller list! Broke all records!"

"No," said Harry frantically. "That voice!"

"Sorry?" said Lockhart, looking puzzled. "What voice?"

"Voice? I think those were hisses." I said.

"That... that voice that said... didn't you hear it?"

Lockhart was looking at us in high astonishment.

"What are you talking about, children? Perhaps you're getting a little drowsy? Great Scott... look at the time! We've been here nearly four hours! I'd never have believed it... the time's flown, hasn't it?"

I didn't answer. I was straining his ears to hear the voice again, but there was no sound now except for Lockhart telling us we mustn't expect a treat like this every time we got detention. Feeling dazed, we left.

"Why couldn't he hear anything?" Harry asked.

"Well, I've always had a better ear than most." I shrugged. "Sometimes, I can overhear my neighbors from three or four houses away." I told him. "But it doesn't explain why I heard hissing and you a voice. Where was it even coming from?"

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room when we entered was almost empty. Harry went straight up to the dormitory, and I to mine. Hermione was sleeping. I pulled on my pajamas, got into bed, and immediately fell into uneasy sleep.

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madam Pomfrey, the nurse, was kept busy by a sudden spate of colds among the staff and students. Her Pepperup potion worked instantly, though it left the drinker smoking at the ears for several hours afterward. Ginny, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire. Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harry was nearly every night in practice, even if it was raining cats and dogs.

One night after Harry's practice, Harry had talked to Nearly-Headless Nick, who had invited him and the friends who wanted to go to his death-day party. I honestly hadn't wanted to go, but Hermione dragged me along, so there we were, entering the ghost-filled place.

"Is that supposed to be music?" Ron whispered as we approached.

We turned a corner and saw Nearly Headless Nick standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

"My dear friends," he said mournfully. "Welcome, welcome... so pleased you could come..."

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed us inside.

It was an incredible sight. The dungeon was full of hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful, quavering sound of thirty musical saws, played by an orchestra on a raised, black-draped platform. A chandelier overhead blazed midnight-blue with a thousand more black candles. Our breath rose in a mist before us; it was like stepping into a freezer.

"Shall we have a look around?" Harry suggested.

"Careful not to walk through anyone," said Ron nervously, and we set off around the edge of the dance floor. We passed a group of gloomy nuns, a ragged man wearing chains, and the Fat Friar, a cheerful Hufflepuff ghost, who was talking to a knight with an arrow sticking out of his forehead. I wasn't surprised to see that the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring Slytherin ghost covered in silver bloodstains, was being given a wide berth by the other ghosts.

"Oh, no," said Hermione, stopping abruptly. "Turn back, turn back, I don't want to talk to Moaning Myrtle..."

"Who?" said Harry as they backtracked quickly.

"She haunts one of the toilets in the girls'bathroom on the first floor," said Hermione.

"She haunts a toilet?"

"Yes. It's been out-of-order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place. I never went in there anyway if I could avoid it; it's awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you..."

"Look, food!" said Ron.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, also covered in black velvet. We approached it eagerly but next moment we stopped in their tracks, horrified. The smell was quite disgusting. Large, rotten fish were laid on handsome silver platters; cakes, burned charcoal-black, were heaped on salvers; there was a great maggoty haggis, a slab of cheese covered in furry green mold and, in pride of place, an enormous gray cake in the shape of a tombstone, with tar-like icing forming the words,

SIR NICHOLAS DE MIMSY-PORPINGTON

DIED 31ST OCTOBER, 1492

I watched, amazed, as a portly ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through it, his mouth held wide so that it passed through one of the stinking salmon.

"Can you taste it if you walk though it?" Harry asked him.

"Almost," said the ghost sadly, and he drifted away.

"I expect they've let it rot to give it a stronger flavor," said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose and leaning closer to look at the putrid haggis.

"Can we move? I feel sick," said Ron.

We had barely turned around, however, when a little man swooped suddenly from under the table and came to a halt in midair before them.

"Hello, Peeves," said Harry cautiously.

Unlike the ghosts around them, Peeves the Poltergeist was the very reverse of pale and transparent. He was wearing a bright orange party hat, a revolving bow tie, and a broad grin on his wide, wicked face.

"Nibbles?" he said sweetly, offering us a bowl of peanuts covered in fungus.

"No thanks," said Hermione.

"Heard you talking about poor Myrtle," said Peeves, his eyes dancing. " Rude you was about poor Myrtle." He took a deep breath and bellowed, "OY! MYRTLE!"

"Oh, no, Peeves, don't tell her what I said, she'll be really upset," Hermione whispered frantically. "I didn't mean it, I don't mind her... er, hello, Myrtle."

"What?" she said sulkily.

"How are you, Myrtle?" said Hermione in a falsely bright voice. "It's nice to see you out of the toilet."

Myrtle sniffed.

"Miss Granger was just talking about you..." said Peeves slyly in Myrtle's ear. "Just saying..."

"Just saying... saying... how nice you look tonight," said Hermione, glaring at Peeves.

Myrtle eyed Hermione suspiciously.

"You're making fun of me," she said, silver tears welling rapidly in her small, see-through eyes.

"No... honestly... didn't I just say how nice Myrtle's looking?" said Hermione, nudging Harry and Ron painfully in the ribs.

"Oh, yeah..."

"She did..."

"Don't lie to me," Myrtle gasped, tears now flooding down her face, while Peeves chuckled happily over her shoulder. "D'you think I don't know what people call me behind my back? Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!"

"You've forgotten pimply," Peeves hissed in her ear.

"Stp, Peeves." I said, giving him my best death glare. Even he cowered and glided off.

"Come on, Myrtle, let's go. I'll meet you three later." I huffed.

I walked away from the party, followed by Myrtle.

"Now are you going to make fun of me?" She asked me when we were in the castle.

"No. I don't see why everyone does so. I bet you're fun to hang out with." I said.

"But you don't know me." She raised her eyebrow.

"I have a way with people." I shrugged.

"But I'm dead." She said skeptically.

"That doesn't mean anything, you're still a person." I said. "Does it mean that much to you?" I asked. "Does it matter that much to you what others think?" I asked.

"Yes. I don't like to be treated as inferior." She said, defeated.

"Well, let's make sure that they don't have a reason to do so." I said.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see." I smiled.

She followed me to the room of requirement, which after the incident I'd searched about. I passed by its tapestry three times, asking for a beauty room. When we entered we found what seemed like a famous person's beauty parlor, only with ghostly things.

"Wow." Myrtle said.

"I guess I have a bit of experience, I do have quite a closet." I shrugged.

"You're going to give me a makeover?" She said, amused. I was right, she was nice to be around, quite similar to me in character really, with all the sarcasm.

"Yeah. So, what would you like to look like?" I asked in a fake snobby voice. We both cracked up.

"I like your style a lot." She said a bit embarassedly.

"Great. Let's see." I looked around the clothes. I found a rack of clothes I liked. "Try these faded jeans." I pointed, since I couldn't hold them. They had no colour, but it was plain to see they were faded by seeing them in their grey scale.

"Oh, and this shirt." It was a dark grey t-shirt with black splatters a bit like mine, though mine was dark green and in my room. I also gave her dark converse and black socks.

The clothes looked nice on her, so we moved to the hair section. I looked at her, telling her to take off her pony tails. She had wavy hair, of what must have been dark brown, so I just told her to brush it and give it a side parting. It couldn't be cut.

"Do you need glasses while dead?" I asked.

"I never checked." She said, taking off her glasses. "Guess not." She shrugged.

"Okay." I said, looking at her nice, round face. "Do you know what cat-liner is?"

"Yeah, a few older students use it." She said.

"Great, do that and use concealer if you'd like." I smiled.

She nodded and did so. She looked at herself in a ghostly mirror.

"Wow." She said. "You're good."

"I know." I said in a fake snobby voice again.

"You sound like the Pansy brat." She laughed.

"Thanks!" I mock bowed. "Just saying, there is no way you are going to be bullied again, save for peeves, but he does that to everyone." I smiled.

"So, shouldn't we head back?" I asked.

"Yeah. I need to go to my bathroom. I want to take a few things." She looked around, finding a big bag and loading it up.

"Okay, see you." I said.

"You bet." She laughed, going right through the door, but it must have been magically enhanced, because she bumped into it, and could only get out once I opened it for her.

I listened out and tried to check if I could see where the students were. I could hear them from the stairway. I headed there, and saw them entering the corridors to their common rooms. I ran down to join Gryffindor, Slytherin and Hufflepuff to the left. We were walking when I heard a few shouts and we stopped. I made my way to the front and someone spoke.

"Enemies of the Heir, beware! You'll be next, Mudbloods!"

It was Draco. He had pushed to the front of the crowd as well, his cold eyes alive, his usually bloodless face flushed, as he grinned at the sight of the hanging, immobile cat.

"What's going on here? What's going on?" Attracted no doubt by his shout, Argus Filch came shouldering his way through the crowd. Then he saw Mrs. Norris and fell back, clutching his face in horror.

"My cat! My cat! What's happened to Mrs. Norris?" he shrieked.

And his popping eyes fell on Harry.

"You!"he screeched. " You ! You've murdered my cat! You've killed her! I'll kill you! I'll..."

"Argus!"

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, followed by a number of other teachers. In seconds, he had swept past Harry, Ron, and Hermione and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

"Come with me, Argus," he said to Filch. "You, too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger."

"Miss Zar as well." Snape intervened.

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly.

"My office is nearest, Headmaster... just upstairs... please feel free..."

"Thank you, Gilderoy," said Dumbledore.

The silent crowd parted to let us pass. Lockhart, looking excited and important, hurried after Dumbledore; so did Professors McGonagall and Snape.

As we entered Lockhart's darkened office there was a flurry of movement across the walls; I saw several of the Lockharts in the pictures dodging out of sight, their hair in rollers. The real Lockhart lit the candles on his desk and stood back. Dumbledore lay Mrs. Norris on the polished surface and began to examine her. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged tense looks and sank into chairs outside the pool of candlelight, watching. I followed them, wondering why I was called.

The tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose was barely an inch from Mrs. Norris's fur. He was looking at her closely through his half-moon spectacles, his long fingers gently prodding and poking. Professor McGonagall was bent almost as close, her eyes narrowed. Snape loomed behind them, half in shadow, wearing a most peculiar expression: It was as though he was trying hard not to smile. And Lockhart was hovering around all of them, making suggestions.

"It was definitely a curse that killed her... probably the Transmogrifian Torture... I've seen it used many times, so unlucky I wasn't there, I know the very countercurse that would have saved her..."

Lockhart's comments were punctuated by Filch's dry, racking sobs. He was slumped in a chair by the desk, unable to look at Mrs. Norris, his face in his hands. Much as I detested Filch, I couldn't help feeling a bit sorry for him. Dumbledore was now muttering spells in Latin under his breath and tapping Mrs. Norris with his wand but nothing happened. She continued to look as though she had been recently stuffed.

"...I remember something very similar happening in Ouagadogou," said Lockhart, "a series of attacks, the full story's in my autobiography, I was able to provide the townsfolk with various amulets, which cleared the matter up at once..."

The photographs of Lockhart on the walls were all nodding in agreement as he talked. One of them had forgotten to remove his hair net. At last Dumbledore straightened up.

"She's not dead, Argus," he said softly.

Lockhart stopped abruptly in the middle of counting the number of murders he had prevented.

"Not dead?" choked Filch, looking through his fingers at Mrs. Norris. "But why's she all... all stiff and frozen?"

"She has been Petrified," said Dumbledore ("Ah! I thought so!" said Lockhart). "But how, I cannot say..."

"Ask him!" shrieked Filch, turning his blotched and tearstained face to Harry.

"No second year could have done this," said Dumbledore firmly. "it would take Dark Magic of the most advanced..."

"He did it, he did it!" Filch spat, his pouchy face purpling. "You saw what he wrote on the wall! He found... in my office... he knows I'm a... I'm a..." Filch's face worked horribly. "He knows I'm a Squib!" he finished.

"I never touched Mrs. Norris! And I don't even know what a Squib is."

"Rubbish!" snarled Filch. "He saw my Kwikspell letter!"

"If I might speak, Headmaster," said Snape from the shadows. "Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time," he said, a slight sneer curling his mouth as though he doubted it. "But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn't he at the Halloween feast?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione all launched into an explanation about the deathday party. "...there were hundreds of ghosts, they'll tell you we were there-"

"But why not join the feast afterward?" said Snape, his black eyes glittering in the candlelight. "Why go up to that corridor? And where, Miss Zar were you? You don't seem to be involved in the tale, but nonetheless, you weren't at dinner.

"I was at the death party, but I left early with Myrtle, the ghost, because Peeves had made her upset."

"And where were you the rest of time?" He asked.

"In the room of requirement. You'll see why tomorrow in the morning, I suppose.

"And you... Mister Potter?" Snape said, ignoring me.

"Because... because... because we were tired and wanted to go to bed," he said.

"Without any supper?" said Snape, a triumphant smile flickering across his gaunt face. "I didn't think ghosts provided food fit for living people at their parties."

"We weren't hungry," said Ron loudly as his stomach gave a huge rumble.

Snape's nasty smile widened.

"I suggest, Headmaster, that Potter is not being entirely truthful," he said. "It might be a good idea if he were deprived of certain privileges until he is ready to tell us the whole story. I personally feel he should be taken off the Gryffindor Quidditch team until he is ready to be honest."

"Really, Severus," said Professor McGonagall sharply, "I see no reason to stop the boy playing Quidditch. This cat wasn't hit over the head with a broomstick. There is no evidence at all that Potter has done anything wrong."

Dumbledore was giving Harry a searching look. His twinkling light-blue gaze made Harry feel as though he were being X-rayed.

"Innocent until proven guilty, Severus," he said firmly.

Snape looked furious.

So did Filch.

"My cat has been Petrified!" he shrieked, his eyes popping. "I want to see some punishment!"

"We will be able to cure her, Argus," said Dumbledore patiently. "Professer Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris."

"I'll make it," Lockhart butted in. "I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep-"

"Excuse me," said Snape icily. "But I believe I am the Potions master at this school."

There was a very awkward pause.

"You may go," Dumbledore said to us.

We went, as quickly as we could without actually running. When we were a floor up from Lockhart's office, we turned into an empty classroom and closed the door quietly behind us. I squinted at my friends'darkened faces.

"D'you think I should have told them about that voice I heard?"

"The voice again?" I asked.

"No," said Ron, without hesitation, ignoring me. "Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world."

"You do believe me, don't you?" Harry asked.

"Course I do," said Ron quickly. "But... you must admit it's weird..."

"I know it's weird," said Harry. "The whole thing's weird. What was that writing on the wall about? The Chamber Has Been Opened ... What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know, it rings a sort of bell," said Ron slowly. "I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once... might've been Bill..."

"Yeah, Ron. It was when we were seven, on Halloween. Bill had gotten us all around this magical campfire and started telling terrifying stories of Hogwarts. Apparently, Slytherin had a fight with the other founders and left, leaving behind a chamber which held a monster. It could only be opened by his heir, and would clean the school of muggle-borns and half-bloods, leaving behind only the pure-bloods, the cause of the fight in the first place." I recited.

"Okay, that is worrying and extremely creepy." Harry said, his eyes wide. "And what on earth's a Squib?"

Ron stiffled a snigger and I glared at him..

"Well... it's not funny really... but as it's Filch," he amended. "A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn't got any magic powers. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizards, but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch's trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much." Ron gave a satisfied smile. "He's bitter."

A clock chimed somewhere.

"Midnight," said Harry. "We'd better get to bed before Snape comes along and tries to frame us for something else."

For a few days, the school could talk of little else but the attack on Mrs. Norris. Filch kept it fresh in everyone's minds by pacing the spot where she had been attacked, as though he thought the attacker might come back. Harry had seen him scrubbing the message on the wall with Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess Remover, but to no effect; the words still gleamed as brightly as ever on the stone. When Filch wasn't guarding the scene of the crime, he was skulking red-eyed through the corridors, lunging out at unsuspecting students and trying to put them in detention for things like "breathing loudly" and "looking happy."

Ginny Weasley seemed very disturbed by Mrs. Norris's fate. She was a great cat lover.

"But you haven't really got to know Mrs. Norris," Ron told her bracingly. "Honestly, we're much better off without her." Ginny's lip trembled. "Stuff like this doesn't often happen at Hogwarts," Ron assured her. "They'll catch the maniac who did it and have him out of here in no time. I just hope he's got time to Petrify Filch before he's expelled. I'm only joking..." Ron added hastily as Ginny blanched.

The attack had also had an effect on Hermione. It was quite usual for Hermione to spend a lot of time reading, but she was now doing almost nothing else. Nor could Harry, Ron and I get much response from her when we asked what she was up to, and not until the following Wednesday did we find out.

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short said Ron furiously, letting go of his parchment, which sprang back into a roll. "And Hermione's done four feet seven inches and her writing's tiny." He looked at my paper. "And Rowan feve feet one inch with even tinier writing!" Hermione and I always were competing for first place in class. Right now, I was winning, just as I had last year. But mostly, the advantage came from being from a wizarding family, so knowing more customs and a few spells earlier than usual.

"Where is she?" asked Harry, grabbing the tape measure and unrolling his own homework.

"Somewhere over there," said Ron, pointing along the shelves. "Looking for another book. I think she's trying to read the whole library before Christmas."

Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked irritable and at last seemed ready to talk to them.

"All the copies of Hogwarts, A History have been taken out," she said, sitting down next to Harry and Ron. "And there's a two-week waiting list. I wish I hadn't left my copy at home, but I couldn't fit it in my trunk with all the Lockhart books."

"Why do you want it?" said Harry.

"The same reason everyone else wants it," said Hermione, "to read up on the legend of the Chamber of Secrets."

"But I already said it!" I exclaimed.

"But I want to read it on paper," said Hermione, biting her lip. "And I can't find the story anywhere else..."

"I'll lend you my magical Ipod later, I have all the schoolbooks saved there." I said. "You could've asked earlier."

"Hermione, let me read your composition," said Ron desperately, checking his watch.

"No, I won't," said Hermione, suddenly severe. "You've had ten days to finish it..."

"I only need another two inches, come on..."

The bell rang. Ron and Hermione led the way to History of Magic, bickering. History of Magic was the dullest subject on our schedule, and the only one Hermione was ahead of me, since I'd never liked Professor Binns, who taught it, our only ghost teacher, and the most exciting thing that ever happened in his classes was his entering the room through the blackboard. Ancient and shriveled, many people said he hadn't noticed he was dead. He had simply got up to teach one day and left his body behind him in an armchair in front of the staff room fire; his routine had not varied in the slightest since.

Today was as boring as ever. Professor Binns opened his notes and began to read in a flat drone like an old vacuum cleaner until nearly everyone in the class was in a deep stupor, occasionally coming to long enough to copy down a name or date, then falling asleep again. He had been speaking for half an hour when something happened that had never happened before. Hermione put up her hand.

Professor Binns, glancing up in the middle of a deadly dull lecture on the International Warlock Convention of 1289, looked amazed. "Miss... er...?"

"Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets," said Hermione in a clear voice.

Dean, who had been sitting with his mouth hanging open, gazing out of the window, jerked out of his trance; Lavender's head came up off her arms and Neville's elbow slipped off his desk.

Professor Binns blinked.

"My subject is History of Magic," he said in his dry, wheezy voice. "I deal with facts, Miss Granger, not myths and legends." He cleared his throat with a small noise like chalk slipping and continued, "In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers..."

He stuttered to a halt. Hermione's hand was waving in the air again.

"Miss Grant?"

"Please, sir, don't legends always have a basis in fact?"

Professor Binns was looking at her in such amazement, I was sure no student had ever interrupted him before, alive or dead.

"Well," said Professor Binns slowly, "yes, one could argue that, I suppose." He peered at Hermione as though he had never seen a student properly before. "However, the legend of which you speak is such a very sensational , even ludicrous tale..."

But the whole class was now hanging on Professor Binns's every word. He looked dimly at us all, every face turned to his. I could tell he was completely thrown by such an unusual show of interest.

"Oh, very well," he said slowly. "Let me see... the Chamber of Secrets... You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four school Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution." He paused, gazed blearily around the room, and continued. "For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But then disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more selective about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school." Professor Binns paused again, pursing his lips, looking like a wrinkled old tortoise. "Reliable historical sources tell us this much," he said. "But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. Slytherin, according to the legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all who were unworthy to study magic." There was silence as he finished telling the story, but it wasn't the usual, sleepy silence that filled Professor Binns's classes. There was unease in the air as everyone continued to watch him, hoping for more. Professor Binns looked faintly annoyed. "The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course," he said. "Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible."

Hermione's hand was back in the air. "Sir, what exactly do you mean by the horror within'the Chamber?"

"That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control," said Professor Binns in his dry, reedy voice.

The class exchanged nervous looks "I tell you, the thing does not exist," said Professor Binns, shuffling his notes. "There is no Chamber and no monster."

"But, sir," said Seamus Finnigan, "if the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin's true heir, no one else would be able to find it, would they?"

"Nonsense, O'Flaherty," said Professor Binns in an aggravated tone. "If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven't found the thing..."

"But, Professor," piped up Parvati, "you'd probably have to use Dark Magic to open it..."

"Just because a wizard doesn't use Dark Magic doesn't mean he can't , Miss Pennyfeather," snapped Professor Binns. "I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore..."

"But maybe you've got to be related to Slytherin, so Dumbledore couldn't..." began Dean, but Professor Binns had had enough.

"That will do," he said sharply. "It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to history , to solid, believable, verifiable fact!"

And within five minutes, the class had sunk back into its usual stupor.

As they were shunted along in the throng after class, Colin Creevy went past.

"Hiya, Harry!"

"Hullo, Colin," said Harry automatically.

"Harry... Harry... a boy in my class has been saying you're..."

But Colin was so small he couldn't fight against the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, "See you, Harry!" and he was gone.

"What's a boy in his class saying about you?" Hermione wondered.

"That I'm Slytherin's heir, I expect," said Harry, his stomach dropping another inch or so as he suddenly remembered the way Justin Finch-Fletchley had run away from him at lunchtime.

"People here'll believe anything," said Ron in disgust.

The crowd thinned and they were able to climb the next staircase without difficulty.

"D'you really think there's a Chamber of Secrets?" Ron asked Hermione.

"I don't know," she said, frowning. "Dumbledore couldn't cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be... well... human."

As she spoke, they turned a corner and found themselves at the end of the very corridor where the attack had happened. They stopped and looked. The scene was just as it had been that night, except that there was no stiff cat hanging from the torch bracket, and an empty chair stood against the wall bearing the message "The Chamber of Secrets has been Opened."

"That's where Filch has been keeping guard," Ron muttered.

We looked at each other. The corridor was deserted.

"Can't hurt to have a poke around," said Harry, dropping his bag and getting to his hands and knees so that he could crawl along, searching for clues.

"Scorch marks!" he said. "Here... and here..."

"Come and look at this!" said Hermione. "This is funny..."

I got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. Hermione was pointing at the topmost pane, where around twenty spiders were scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long, silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

"Have you ever seen spiders act like that?" said Hermione wonderingly.

"No," said Harry, "have you, Ron? Ron?"

He looked over his shoulder. Ron was standing well back and seemed to be fighting the impulse to run.

"What's up?" said Harry.

"I... don't... like... spiders," said Ron tensely.

"I never knew that," said Hermione, looking at Ron in surprise. "You've used spiders in Potions loads of times..."

"I don't mind them dead," said Ron, who was carefully looking anywhere but at the window. "I just don't like the way they move..."

Hermione giggled.

"It's not funny," said Ron, fiercely. "If you must know, when I was three, Fred turned my... my teddy bear into a great big filthy spider because I broke his toy broomstick... You wouldn't like them either if you'd been holding your bear and suddenly it had too many legs and..."

He broke off, shuddering. Hermione was obviously still trying not to laugh. Feeling we had better get off the subject, I said, "Remember all that water on the floor? Where did that come from? Someone's mopped it up."

"It was about here," said Ron, recovering himself to walk a few paces past Filch's chair and pointing. "Level with this door."

He reached for the brass doorknob but suddenly withdrew his hand as though he'd been burned.

"What's the matter?" said Harry.

"Can't go in there," said Ron gruffly. "That's a girls'toilet."

"Oh, Ron, there won't be anyone in there," said Hermione standing up and coming over. "That's Moaning Myrtle's place. Come on, let's have a look."

"No, Hermione. This is Myrtle's place." I snapped.

She looked at me weirdly, and ignoring the large OUT of ORDER sign, she opened the door.

It was the gloomiest, most depressing bathroom I had ever set foot in. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of chipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them was dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?"

We went to look. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, looking awesome.

"This is a girls bathroom," she said, eyeing Ron and Harry suspiciously. " They're not girls."

"No," Hermione agreed, raising her eyebrows at me about her new look. "I just wanted to show them how er... nice it is in here."

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and the damp floor.

"Ask her if she saw anything," Harry mouthed at Hermione.

"What are you whispering?" said Myrtle, staring at him.

"Nothing really." He was telling Hermione to ask you if you had seen anything weird. You know, about what happened right outside on Halloween night." I said.

"No, not really. I didn't come through here. I went through the floors right in here." She said, more pleased to be talking to me. "I didn't realise anything until I heard the shouting outside."

"Thanks anyway." I smiled.

I looked behind me and saw the three were at the door, waiting for me. I turned to Myrtle. "I'll come tomorrow, I already did all my homework, so I can." I smiled.

"Great! See you!" She said cheerfully, and went right through the wall.

Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open, but Hermione shrugged warily and said, "Come on, let's go."

Harry had barely closed the door when a loud voice made all three of them jump. I managed to keep calm.

"RON!"

Percy had stopped dead at the head of the stairs, prefect badge agleam, an expression of complete shock on his face.

"That's a girls bathroom!" he gasped. "What were you...?"

"I was introducing them to Myrtle. She's a good friend." I said. "And since this bathroom isn't used by girls..."

"So I heard, Row." He actually held me as a little sister. And he walked away.

We chose seats as far as possible from Percy in the common room that night. Ron was still in a bad temper and kept blotting his Charms homework. When he reached absently for his wand to remove the smudges, it ignited the parchment. Fuming almost as much as his homework, Ron slammed The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 shut. To my surprise, Hermione followed suit.

"Who can it be, though?" she said in a quiet voice, as though continuing a conversation we had just been having. "Who'd want to frighten all the Squibs and Muggle-borns out of Hogwart's?"

"Let's think," said Ron in mock puzzlement. "Who do we know who thinks Muggle-borns are scum?"

He looked at Hermione. Hermione looked back, unconvinced.

"If you're talking about Malfoy..."

"Of course I am!" said Ron. "You heard him... You'll be next, Mudbloods!" come on, you've only got to look at his foul rat face to know it's him..."

"Malfoy, the Heir of Slytherin?" said Hermione skeptically.

"Yeah, he's too young." I intervened to no avail.

"Look at his family," said Harry, closing his books, too. "The whole lot of them have been in Slytherin; he's always boasting about it. They could easily be Slytherin's descendants. His father's definitely evil enough."

"They could've had the key to the Chamber of Secrets for centuries!" said Ron. "Handing it down, father to son..."

"Well," said Hermione cautiously, "I suppose it's possible..."

"I don't" I piped in, thoroughly ignored.

"But how do we prove it?" said Harry darkly.

"There might be a way," said Hermione slowly, dropping her voice still further with a quick glance across the room at Percy. "Of course, it would be difficult. And dangerous, very dangerous. We'd be breaking about fifty school rules, I expect..."

"If, in a month or so, you feel like explaining, you will let us know, won't you?" said Ron irritably.

"All right," said Hermione coldly. "What we'd need to do is to get inside the Slytherin common room and ask Malfoy a few questions without him realizing it's us."

"But that's impossible," Harry said as Ron laughed.

"No, it's not," said Hermione. "All we'd need would be some Polyjuice Potion."

"What's that?" said Ron and Harry together.

"Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago..." I grumbled.

"D'you think we've got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?" muttered Ron.

"It transforms you into somebody else. Think about it! We could change into three of the Slytherins. No one would know it was us. Malfoy would probably tell us anything. He's probably boasting about it in the Slytherin common room right now, if only we could hear him." She ignored them.

"This Polyjuice stuff sounds a bit dodgy to me," said Ron, frowning. "What if we were stuck looking like four of the Slytherins forever?"

"It wears off after a while," said Hermione, waving her hand impatiently. "But getting hold of the recipe will be very difficult. Snape said it was in a book called Moste Potente Potions and it's bound to be in the Restricted Section of the library." There was only one way to get out a book from the Restricted Section: You needed a signed note of permission from a teacher. "Hard to see why we'd want the book, really," said Ron, "if we weren't going to try and make one of the potions." "I think," said Hermione, "that if we made it sound as though we were just interested in the theory, we might stand a chance..."

"Oh, come on, no teacher's going to fall for that," said Ron. "They'd have to be really thick..."

"Exactly..." I said evilly, even if I didn't agree with the plan.


	10. Greg Doesn't Think!

Since the disastrous episode of the pixies, Professor Lockhart had not brought live creatures to class. Instead, he read passages from his books to us, and sometimes reenacted some of the more dramatic bits. He usually picked Harry to help him with these reconstructions; so far, Harry had been forced to play a simple Transylvanian villager whom Lockhart had cured of a Babbling Curse, a yeti with a head cold, and a vampire who had been unable to eat anything except lettuce since Lockhart had dealt with him.

Harry was hauled to the front of the class during our very next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson, this time acting a werewolf. If he hadn't had a very good reason for keeping Lockhart in a good mood, he obviously would have refused to do it.

"Nice loud howl, Harry... exactly... and then, if you'll believe it, I pounced... like this... slammed him to the floor... thus with one hand, I managed to hold him down... with my other, I put my wand to his throat... I then screwed up my remaining strength and performed the immensely complex Homorphus Charm... he let out a piteous moan... go on, Harry... higher than that... good... the fur vanished... the fangs shrank... and he turned back into a man. Simple, yet effective... and another village will remember me forever as the hero who delivered them from the monthly terror of werewolf attacks."

The bell rang and Lockhart got to his feet.

"Homework... compose a poem about my defeat of the Wagga Wagga Werewolf! Signed copies of Magical Me to the author of the best one!"

The class began to leave. Harry returned to the back of the room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting.

"Ready?" Harry muttered.

"Wait till everyone's gone," said Hermione nervously. "All right..."

She approached Lockhart's desk, a piece of paper clutched tightly in her hand, Harry and Ron right behind her.

"Er... Professor Lockhart?" Hermione stammered. "I wanted to... to get this book out of the library. Just for background reading." She held out the piece of paper, her hand shaking slightly. "But the thing is, it's in the Restricted Section of the library, so I need a teacher to sign for it... I'm sure it would help me understand what you say in Gadding with Ghouls about slow-acting venoms."

"Ah, Gadding with Ghouls!" said Lockhart, taking the note from Hermione and smiling widely at her. "Possibly my very favorite book. You enjoyed it?"

"Oh, yes," said Hermione eagerly. "So clever, the way you trapped that last one with the tea-strainer..."

"Well, I'm sure no one will mind me giving one of the best students of the year a little extra help," said Lockhart warmly, and he pulled out an enormous peacock quill. "Yes, nice, isn't it?" he said, misreading the revolted look on Ron's face. "I usually save it for book-signings."

He scrawled an enormous loopy signature on the note and handed it back to Hermione.

"So, Harry," said Lockhart, while Hermione folded the note with fumbling fingers and slipped it into her bag. "Tomorrow's the first Quidditch match of the season, I believe? Gryffindor against Slytherin, is it not? I hear you're a useful player. I was a Seeker, too. I was asked to try for the National Squad, but preferred to dedicate my life to the eradication of the Dark Forces. Still, if ever you feel the need for a little private training, don't hesitate to ask. Always happy to pass on my expertise to less able players...

Harry made an indistinct noise in his throat and then hurried off after Ron and Hermione.

"I don't believe it," he said as the three of them examined the signature on the note. "He didn't even look at the book we wanted."

"That's because he's a brainless git," said Ron. "But who cares, we've got what we needed..."

"He is not a brainless git," said Hermione shrilly as they half ran toward the library.

"Just because he said you were one of the best students of the year..."

We dropped their voices as we entered the muffled stillness of the library. Madam Pince, the librarian, was a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture.

"Moste Potente Potions?" she repeated suspiciously, trying to take the note from Hermione; but Hermione wouldn't let go.

"I was wondering if I could keep it," she said breathlessly.

"Oh, come on," said Ron, wrenching it from her grasp and thrusting it at Madam Pince. "We'll get you another autograph. Lockhart'll sign anything if it stands still long enough."

Madam Pince held the note up to the light, as though determined to detect a forgery, but it passed the test. She stalked away between the lofty shelves and returned several minutes later carrying a large and moldy-looking book. Hermione put it carefully into her bag and we left, trying not to walk too quickly or look too guilty, which they were having no success at."

Five minutes later, we were barricaded in Myrtle's out-of-order bathroom once again. Hermione had overridden Ron's objections by pointing out that it was the last place anyone in their right minds would go, so they were guaranteed some privacy. Myrtle was sitting next to us, reading and helping, since she wouldn't give me away, me having become her best friend, and the other three had grown accostumed to her. It was plain she had a crush on Harry.

Hermione opened Moste Potente Potions carefully, and the five of us bent over the damp-spotted pages. It was clear from a glance why it belonged in the Restricted Section. Some of the potions had effects almost too gruesome to think about, and there were some very unpleasant illustrations, which included a man who seemed to have been turned inside out and a witch sprouting several extra pairs of arms out of her head.

"Here it is," said Hermione excitedly as she found the page headed The Polyjuice Potion. It was decorated with drawings of people halfway through transforming into other people. I sincerely hoped the artist had imagined the looks of intense pain on their faces.

"This is the most complicated potion I've ever seen," said Hermione as we scanned the recipe. "Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed, and knotgrass," she murmured, running her finger down the list of ingredients. "Well, they're easy enough, they're in the student store... cupboard, we can help ourselves... Oooh, look, powdered horn of a bicorn... don't know where we're going to get that... shredded skin of a boomslang... that'll be tricky, too and of course a bit of whoever we want to change into."

"Excuse me?" said Ron sharply. "What d'you mean, a bit of whoever we're changing into? I'm drinking nothing with Crabbe's toenails in it..."

Hermione continued as though she hadn't heard him.

"We don't have to worry about that yet, though, because we add those bits last..."

Ron turned, speechless, to Harry, who had another worry.

"D'you realize how much we're going to have to steal, Hermione? Shredded skin of a boomslang, that's definitely not in the students' cupboard. What're we going to do, break into Snape's private stores? I don't know if this is a good idea..."

Hermione shut the book with a snap.

"Well, if you two are going to chicken out, fine," she said. There were bright pink patches on her cheeks and her eyes were brighter than usual. "I don't want to break rules, you know. I think threatening Muggle-borns is far worse than brewing up a difficult potion. But if you don't want to find out if it's Malfoy, I'll go straight to Madam Pince now and hand the book back in..."

"I never thought Id see the day when you'd be persuading us to break rules," said Ron. "All right, we'll do it. But not toenails, okay? And who of the two of you is going to make it?" He asked.

"Rowan, do you mind? I will help, but you should do most of it, since you are better, I admit, and because it is less suspicious if you come here, since you are Myrtle's friend."

I nodded, sighing. It wouldn't go through their heads that Draco wasn't the heir.

"How long will it take to make, anyway?" said Harry as Hermione, looking happier, opened the book again.

"Well, since the fluxweed has got to be picked at the full moon and the lacewings have got to be stewed for twenty-one days... I'd say it'd be ready in about a month, if we can get all the ingredients."

"A month?" said Ron. "Malfoy could have attacked half the Muggle-borns in the school by then!" But Hermione's eyes narrowed dangerously again, and he added swiftly, "But it's the best plan we've got, so full steam ahead, I say."

However, while Hermione was checking that the coast was clear for us to leave the bathroom, Ron muttered to Harry, though I could still hear, "It'll be a lot less hassle if you can just knock Malfoy off his broom tomorrow."

Myrtle cracked up at this.

As usual, I skipped the game, hanging out at Myrtle's, due to my aversion to Quidditch, but I soon found out it hadn't been that good an idea. We were sitting on the bathroom floor, talking and her painting her nails a light grey.

"What? You didn't tell me!" I exclaimed. Apparently, she saw us live people in a grey scale and ghostly objects in color, just the opposite as me.

"Yeah, this paint is light green. And my hair is caramel." She laughed.

Suddenly, I could hear running footsteps, two pairs, heading towards the bathroom. The newly oiled door opened to reveal Hermione and Ron, winded.

"We tried to get you, but you weren't practicing volley. I forgot you don't on Quidditch days." Hermione wheezed. "Harry is in the infermary, but we can't go in there, or the nurse will have our heads on a silver platter." She said.

"What happened?" I asked Ron, who was less winded.

"There was an enchanted bludger following him throughout the game. He managed to catch the snitch, but it broke his arm first. Lockhart tried to fix it, but the git just took away all his bones. And it's time for dinner." He added.

"Crap, skelegrow tastes like goblin piss." I said, pitying Harry.

"So I heard." Ron made a face.

"He'll be fine." I waved it off. "To change the subject, thanks for getting me for dinner. Myrtle, I have to go or Snape will have MY head on a silver platter, with extra gravy." I laughed.

"Cool, come tomorrow please." She laughed. She was so fun to be around.

"Sure." I said, following the two to the door.

The next day, an hour after I was done with practice, in Myrtle's bathroom, while starting the potion, Harry came.

"It's me," he said, closing the door behind him.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed. "You gave us such a fright... come in how's your arm?"

"Fine," said Harry.

"We'd've come to meet you, but we decided to get started on the Polyjuice Potion," Ron explained.

"Colin Creevy was petrified." He said outright.

"We already know... we heard Professor McGonagall telling Professor Flitwick this morning. That's why we decided we'd better get going..." Hermione said.

"The sooner we get a confession out of Malfoy, the better," snarled Ron. "D'you know what I think? He was in such a foul temper after the Quidditch match, he took it out on Colin."

"There's something else," said Harry, watching me tearing bundles of knotgrass and throwing them into the potion. "Dobby came to visit me in the middle of the night."

We looked up, amazed.

"Dobby, as in the Malfoys' elf?" Asked Myrtle and I at the same time.

Harry nodded, and told us everything Dobby had told him... or hadn't told him. We listened with their mouths open.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened before?" Hermione said.

"This settles it," said Ron in a triumphant voice. "Lucius Malfoy must've opened the Chamber when he was at school here and now he's told dear old Draco how to do it. It's obvious. Wish Dobby'd told you what kind of monster's in there, though. I want to know how come nobody's noticed it sneaking around the school."

"Maybe it can make itself invisible," said Hermione, prodding leeches to the bottom of the cauldron. "Or maybe it can disguise itself... pretend to be a suit of armor or something... I've read about Chameleon Ghouls..."

"You read too much, Hermione," said Ron, pouring dead lacewings on top of the leeches. He crumpled up the empty lacewing bag and looked at Harry.

"So Dobby stopped us from getting on the train and broke your arm?" He shook his head. "You know what, Harry? If he doesn't stop trying to save your life he's going to kill you."

"Very true." I agreed.

The news that Colin Creevey had been attacked and was now lying as though dead in the hospital wing had spread through the entire school by Monday morning. The air was suddenly thick with rumor and suspicion. The first years were now moving around the castle in tight-knit groups, as though scared they would be attacked if they ventured forth alone.

Ginny Weasley, who sat next to Colin in Charms, was distraught, but I felt that Fred and George were going the wrong way about cheering her up. They were taking turns covering themselves with fur or boils and jumping out at her from behind statues. They only stopped when Percy, apoplectic with rage, told them he was going to write to Mrs. Weasley and tell her Ginny was having nightmares.

Meanwhile, hidden from the teachers, a roaring trade in talismans, amulets, and other protective devices was sweeping the school. Neville Longbottom bought a large, evil-smelling green onion, a pointed purple crystal, and a rotting newt tail before the other Gryffindor boys pointed out that he was in no danger; he was a pure-blood, and therefore unlikely to be attacked.

"They went for Filch first," Neville said, his round face fearful. "And everyone knows I'm almost a Squib."

In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I signed the list; we had heard that Draco was staying, which struck the three as very suspicious. The holidays would be the perfect time to use the Polyjuice Potion and try to worm a confession out of him. Also, we were vert interested in Myrtle's stories. She had died at the time the chamber had last been opened, about fifty years ago, but all she could remember were yellow eyes, though she wouldn't tell us where, because she'd have a break-down,

Unfortunately, the potion was only half finished. We still needed the bicorn horn and the boomslang skin, and the only place we were going to get them was from Snape's private stores. I privately felt I's rather face Slytherin's legendary monster than let Snape catch me robbing his office.

"What we need," said Hermione briskly as Thursday afternoon's double Potions lesson loomed nearer, "is a diversion. Then one of us can sneak into Snape's office and take what we need."

Harry and Ron looked at her nervously.

"I think I'd better do the actual stealing," Hermione continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "You two will be expelled if you get into any more trouble, and I've got a clean record, plus, Rowan is known as a mischief maker, just for being Fred and George's friend, and sometimes helper. So all you need to do is cause enough mayhem to keep Snape busy for five minutes or so.

Harry smiled feebly at us. I could understand. Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

Potions lessons took place in one of the large dungeons. Thursday afternoon's lesson proceeded in the usual way. Twenty cauldrons stood steaming between the wooden desks, on which stood brass scales and jars of ingredients. Snape prowled through the fumes, making waspish remarks about the Gryffindors' work while the Slytherins sniggered appreciatively. Draco, who was Snape's favorite student, kept flicking puffer-fish eyes at us.

My Swelling Solution was perfect, but I had my mind on more important things. I was waiting for Hermione's signal, and I hardly listened as Snape paused to compliment my brew. When Snape turned and walked off to bully Neville, Hermione caught my eye and nodded.

I ducked swiftly down behind his cauldron, pulled one of my Filibuster fireworks, a gift from the twins, out of his pocket, and gave it a quick prod with my wand. The firework began to fizz and sputter. Knowing I had only seconds, I straightened up, took aim, and lobbed it into the air; it landed right on target in Goyle's cauldron.

Goyle's potion exploded, showering the whole class. People shrieked as splashes of the Swelling Solution hit them. Draco got a faceful and his nose began to swell like a balloon; Goyle blundered around, his hands over his eyes, which had expanded to the size of a dinner plate... Snape was trying to restore calm and find out what had happened. Through the confusion, I saw Hermione slip quietly into Snape's office.

"Silence! SILENCE!" Snape roared. "Anyone who has been splashed, come here for a Deflating Draft... when I find out who did this..."

I tried not to laugh as I watched Draco hurry forward, his head drooping with the weight of a nose like a small melon. As half the class lumbered up to Snape's desk, some weighted down with arms like clubs, others unable to talk through gigantic puffedup lips, I saw Hermione slide back into the dungeon, the front of her robes bulging.

When everyone had taken a swig of antidote and the various swellings had subsided, Snape swept over to Goyle's cauldron and scooped out the twisted black remains of the firework. There was a sudden hush.

"If I ever find out who threw this," Snape whispered, "I shall make sure that person is expelled."

When we got to the bathroom, Hermione threw the new ingredients into the cauldron and began to stir feverishly.

"It'll be ready in two weeks," I said happily, looking at the book.

A week later, we were walking across the entrance hall when we saw a small knot of people gathered around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus and Dean beckoned us over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days..."

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" said Ron, but he, too, read the sign with interest.

"Could be useful," he said to us as we went into dinner. "Shall we go?"

Harry and Hermione were all for it, and I, dragged along, so at eight o'clock that evening we hurried back to the Great Hall. The long dining tables had vanished and a golden stage had appeared along one wall, lit by thousands of candles floating overhead. The ceiling was velvety black once more and most of the school seemed to be packed beneath it, all carrying their wands and looking excited.

"I wonder who'll be teaching us?" said Hermione as we edged into the chattering crowd. "Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young... maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not..." I began, but I ended on a groan: Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called out. "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent! Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions, for full details, see my published works.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide smile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don't want any of you youngsters to worry... you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear!"

"Wouldn't it be good if they finished each other off?" I muttered to Myrtle, who had come to watch us learn. She was going about much more since Halloween.

I looked back at the stage. Snape's upper lip was curling. I wondered why Lockhart was still smiling; if Snape had been looking at me like that I'd have been running as fast as I could in the opposite direction.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least, Lockhart did, with much twirling of his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"I wouldn't bet on that," Harry murmured to me, watching Snape.

"One, two, three..."

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried: "Expelliarmus!" There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down it to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the other Slytherins cheered along with Harry, Ron and I. Hermione was dancing on tiptoes. "Do you think he's all right?" she squealed through her fingers.

"Who cares?" said Harry and Ron together.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said, tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm... as you see, I've lost my wand... ah, thank you, Miss Brown... yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy... however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see..."

Snape was looking murderous. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me..."

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin, but Snape reached Harry and Ron first.

"Time to split up the dream team, I think," he sneered. "Weasley, you can partner Finnigan. And Potter..."

Harry looked longingly at Hermione and I. We had already partnered up.

"I don't think so," said Snape, smiling coldly. "Mr. Malfoy, come over here. Let's see what you make of the famous Potter."

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Hermione and I did so, still looking at each other. I scanned her position automatically. She wasn't in a very stable position. My spell wouldn't have to be very powerful.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponents, only to disarm them, we don't want any accidents, one... two... three..."

I let Hermione make the first move. "Expelliarmus."

I blocked with my Protego. This surprised Hermione, giving me time to disarm her. I caughte her wand, and started looking around at the rest.

Harry was laughing on the floor from a Rictumsempra spell from Draco.

"I said disarm only!" Lockhart shouted in alarm over the heads of the battling crowd, as Dracosank to his knees; Harry had hit him with a Tickling Charm, and he could barely move for laughing. Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's knees, choked, "Tarantallegra!" and the next second Harry's legs began to jerk around out of his control in a kind of quickstep.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

"Finite Incantatem!" he shouted; Harry's feet stopped dancing, Malfoy stopped laughing, and they were able to look up.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; and Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, apologizing for whatever his broken wand had done.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillan... Good job Miss Zar. Careful there, Miss Fawcett... Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second, Boot. I think Id better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looked quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair... Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you -"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large and malevolent bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We'll be sending what's left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox." Neville's round, pink face went pinker. "What about Malfoy and Potter?"

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harry and Draco into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harry," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, you do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up, saying, "Whoops... my wand is a little overexcited..."

Snape moved closer to Draco, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Draco smirked, too. Harry looked up nervously at Lockhart and said, "Professor, could you show me that blocking thing again?"

"Scared?" muttered Draco, so that Lockhart couldn't hear him. Weird, my hearing was better than usual.

"You wish," said Harry out of the corner of his mouth.

Lockhart cuffed Harry merrily on the shoulder. "Just do what I did, Harry!"

"What, drop my wand?"

But Lockhart wasn't listening.

Harry looked at me, and I mouthed protego, showing him the movement. He nodded unsurely.

"Three, two, one, go!" Lockhart shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, "Serpensortia!"

The end of his wand exploded. I watched, aghast, as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between the two, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor and taking me along.

"Don't move, Potter," said Snape lazily, clearly enjoying the sight of Harry standing motionless, eye to eye with the angry snake. "I'll get rid of it..."

"Allow me!" shouted Lockhart. He brandished his wand at the snake and there was a loud bang; the snake, instead of vanishing, flew ten feet into the air and fell back to the floor with a loud smack. Enraged, hissing furiously, it slithered straight toward Justin and raised itself again, fangs exposed, poised to strike.

Harry suddenly stepped forwards, hissing like the walls. The snake slumped on the floor and stared straight at Harry. Oh my god, Harry was a Parselmouth, whatever was hissing around was a snake, that was why I heard hissing and he a voice!

He looked up at Justin, grinning, who was angry and scared.

"What do you think you're playing at?" he shouted, and before Harry could say anything, Justin had turned and stormed out of the hall.

Snape stepped forward, waved his wand, and the snake vanished in a small puff of black smoke. Snape, too, was looking at Harry in an unexpected way: It was a shrewd and calculating look.

I stepped up and pulled on Harry's arm, arriving at the empty common room. I sat on an armchair and looked at Harry.

"You're a Parselmouth. Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm a what?" said Harry.

"A Parselmouth!" said Ron. "You can talk to snakes!"

"I know," said Harry. "I mean, that's only the second time I've ever done it. I accidentally set a boa constrictor on my cousin Dudley at the zoo once, long story, but it was telling me it had never seen Brazil and I sort of set it free without meaning to that was before I knew I was a wizard."

"A boa constrictor told you it had never seen Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"So?" said Harry. "I bet loads of people here can do it."

"Oh, no they can't," I said. "It's not a very common gift. Harry, this is bad."

"What's bad? What's wrong with everyone? Listen, if I hadn't told that snake not to attack Justin..."

"Oh, that's what you said to it?" Ron exclaimed.

"What d'you mean? You were there... you heard me..."

"I heard you speaking Parseltongue," said Ron. "Snake language. You could have been saying anything - no wonder Justin panicked, you sounded like you were egging the snake on or something... it was creepy, you know..."

Harry gaped at him.

"I spoke a different language? But, I didn't realize, how can I speak a language without knowing I can speak it?"

Ron shook his head. Both he and Hermione were looking as though someone had died. I couldn't see what was so terrible, all that happened was that we found out he had a gift, and they couldn't have figure out of the hissing and talking connection, right, they couldn't hear it.

"D'you want to tell me what's wrong with stopping a massive snake biting off Justin's head?" he said. "What does it matter how I did it as long as Justin doesn't have to join the Headless Hunt?"

"It matters," said Hermione, speaking at last in a hushed voice, "because being able to talk to snakes was what Salazar Slytherin was famous for. That's why the symbol of Slytherin House is a serpent."

Harry's mouth fell open.

"Exactly," said Ron. "And now the whole school's going to think you're his great-great-great-great-grandson or something."

"But I'm not," said Harry, panicked.

"You'll find that hard to prove," said Hermione. "He lived about a thousand years ago; for all we know, you could be."

"I have a theory." I piped up.

They looked at me.

"Some sort of snake is hissing in the castle. That's why I hear hissing and Harry a voice, he can talk to snakes." I said.

"But Rowan, parseltounge also works on morst reptiles, including dragons." Hermione said, pale. "And if a dragon is haunting the corridors..."

I nearly fainted, I hadn't thought of that.

By next morning, the snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly and revive Mrs. Norris and Colin Creevey.

I fretted about not practicing next to the fire in the Gryffindor common room, while Ron and Hermione used their time off to play a game of wizard chess. I decided to go to Myrtle's instead. When I came back from there, and a trip to get a few things for her at the room of requirement, I headed back, to be met by Hermione, Ron and Harry, who were grim, and talking in hushed tones. Apparently, Justin and Nearly-Headless Nick had been petrified, and MacGonagall had taken Harry to Dumbles'. He didn't believe it was him. Oh, and Fawkes had had his burning day at last.

The double attack on Justin and Nearly Headless Nick turned what had hitherto been nervousness into real panic. Curiously, it was Nearly Headless Nick's fate that seemed to worry people most. What could possibly do that to a ghost? people asked each other; what terrible power could harm someone who was already dead? There was almost a stampede to book seats on the Hogwarts Express so that students could go home for Christmas.

"At this rate, we'll be the only ones left," Ron grumbled. "Us, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. What a jolly holiday it's going to be."

Vince and Greg, who always did whatever Draco did, had signed up to stay over the holidays, too. But I was glad that most people were leaving. I was tired of people skirting around Harry in the corridors, as though he was about to sprout fangs or spit poison; tired of all the muttering, pointing, and hissing as he passed.

Fred and George, however, found all this very funny. They went out of their way to march ahead of Harry down the corridors, shouting, "Make way for the Heir of Slytherin, seriously evil wizard coming through..."

Percy was deeply disapproving of this behavior.

"It is not a laughing matter," he said coldly.

"Oh, get out of the way, Percy," said Fred. "Harry's in a hurry."

"Yeah, he's off to the Chamber of Secrets for a cup of tea with his fanged servant." said George, chortling.

Ginny didn't find it amusing either.

"Oh, don't," she wailed every time Fred asked Harry loudly who he was planning to attack next, or when George pretended to ward Harry off with a large clove of garlic when they met.

Truly, it was hilarious.

Christmas morning dawned, cold and white. Harry and Ron, the only ones left in their dormitory, were woken very early by Hermione and I, who burst in, fully dressed and carrying presents for them both.

"Wake up," I said loudly, pulling back the curtains at the window.

"Rowan, Hermione, you're not supposed to be in here, again." said Ron, shielding his eyes against the light.

"Merry Christmas to you, too," said Hermione, throwing him his presents. "We've been up for nearly an hour, adding more lacewings to the potion. It's ready."

Harry sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive," I said, shifting Scabbers so that I could sit down on the end of Ron's four-poster. "If we're going to do it, I say it should be tonight."

At that moment, Hedwig swooped into the room, carrying a very small package in her beak.

"Hello," said Harry happily as she landed on his bed. "Are you speaking to me again?"

She nibbled his ear in an affectionate sort of way, and extended her paw, showing him a present from the Dursleys. They had sent Harry a toothpick and a note telling him to find out whether he'd be able to stay at Hogwarts for the summer vacation, too.

The rest of Harry's Christmas presents were obviously far more satisfactory. Hagrid had sent him a large tin of treacle fudge, Ron had given him a book called Flying with the Cannons, me a gigantic box filled with chocolate frogs, and Hermione had bought him a luxury eagle-feather quill. Harry opened the last present to find a new, hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. She had sent me a dark purple one as well. It was plain, the happiness. No one, not even someone dreading taking Polyjuice Potion later, could fail to enjoy Christmas dinner at Hogwarts.

The Great Hall looked magnificent. Not only were there a dozen frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling, but enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led us in a few of his favorite carols, Hagrid booming more and more loudly with every goblet of eggnog he consumed. Percy, who hadn't noticed that Fred had bewitched his prefect badge so that it now read "Pinhead," kept asking them all what they were sniggering at.

Harry and Ron had barely finished their third helpings of Christmas pudding when Hermione and I ushered them out of the hall to finalize our plans for the evening.

"We still need a bit of the people you're changing into," said Hermione matter-of-facdy, as though she were sending them to the supermarket for laundry detergent. "And obviously, it'll be best if you can get something of Crabbe's and Goyle's; they're Malfoys best friends, he'll tell them anything. And we also need to make sure the real Crabbe and Goyle can't burst in on us while we're interrogating him.

"I've got it all worked out," she went on smoothly, ignoring Harry's and Ron's stupefied faces. She held up two plump chocolate cakes. "I've filled these with a simple Sleeping Draught. All you have to do is make sure Crabbe and Goyle find them. You know how greedy they are, they're bound to eat them. Once they're asleep, pull out a few of their hairs and hide them in a broom closet."

Harry and Ron looked incredulously at each other.

"Hermione, I don't think..."

"That could go seriously wrong..."

But Hermione had a steely glint in her eye not unlike the one Professor McGonagall sometimes had.

"The potion will be useless without Crabbe's and Goyle's hair," she said sternly. "You do want to investigate Malfoy, don't you?"

"Oh, all right, all right," said Harry. "But what about you? Whose hair are you ripping out?"

"I got one for Rowan and another for mine. Remember when Snape partnered the Slytherins and Gryffindors for the exam? I was stuck in a group of three with Milicent Bullstrode and Tanya Linus. Milicent had this hair." She held it up. "On her shoulder, it had already fallen. I had to pull out one of Tanya's, she didn't even notice."

Tanya? Right, she was this Slytherin girl in our year. She was very pretty and smart as well, and actually a bit nice, but I had only talked to her when we were partners. She had no prejudice really, but she was friends with Malfoy.

An hour later, we four were holding the glasses up, clinking them together, with Myrtle there for support.

They heard the scrape of the lock and Hermione emerged, shiny- faced and looking anxious. Behind her they heard the gloop gloop of the bubbling, glutinous potion. Three glass tumblers stood ready on the toilet seat.

"Did you get them?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

Harry showed her Goyle's hair.

"Good. And I sneaked these spare robes out of the laundry," Hermione said, holding up a small sack. "You'll need bigger sizes once you're Crabbe and Goyle."

The three of them stared into the cauldron. Close up, the potion looked like thick, dark mud, bubbling sluggishly.

"I'm sure I've done everything right," said Hermione, nervously rereading the splotched page of Moste Potente Potions. "It looks like the book says it should ... once we've drunk it, we'll have exactly an hour before we change back into ourselves."

"Now what?" Ron whispered.

"We separate it into three glasses and add the hairs."

Hermione ladled large dollops of the potion into each of the glasses. Then, her hand trembling, she shook Millicent Bulstrode's hair out of its bottle into the first glass.

We then went into the stalls, Myrtle with me, and I gulped it down. It tasted even worse than skelegrow, an experience from when I was nine. Once the urge to vomit was gone, and my skin started bubbling, I came out and looked at the mirror. My hair shortened a bit, and turned a light blonde color, like Luna Loovegood's, a first year Ravenclaw. It became wavy, just like Myrtle's. My skin paled a bit, and I grew a centimeter or two. My lips became a bit thinner, and a few freckles sprouted around my now tiny nose. My eyes elongated a bit, and turned light blue, almost grey.

The rest hadn't come out yet, so I quickly put on some lipgloss, which I knew she used.

Greg's voice rasped out from a stall, Harry. "Are you three okay?"

"Yeah," came the deep grunt of Vince.

"Okay here." I called out at the same time as Myrtle. We laughed lightly.

Harry unlocked his door and stepped out, scratching his ear.

Ron's door opened. The two stared at each other. Except that he looked pale and shocked, Ron was indistinguishable from Crabbe, from the pudding-bowl haircut to the long, gorilla arms.

"This is unbelievable," said Ron, approaching the mirror and prodding Crabbe's flat nose. "Unbelievable. "

"We'd better get going," said Harry, loosening the watch that was cutting into Goyle's thick wrist. "We've still got to find out where the Slytherin common room is. I only hope we can find someone to follow..."

Ron, who had been gazing at Harry, said, "You don't know how bizarre it is to see Goyle thinking." He banged on Hermione's door. "C'mon, we need to go."

A high-pitched voice answered him.

"I, I don't think I'm going to come after all. You go on without me."

"Hermione, we know Millicent Bulstrode's ugly, no one's going to know it's you."

"No, really, I don't think I'll come. You three hurry up, you re wasting time"

Harry looked at me, bewildered.

"That looks more like Goyle," said Ron. "That's how he looks every time a teacher asks him a question."

"Hermione, are you okay?" said Harry through the door.

"Fine. I'm fine. go on."

"We'll meet you back here, all right?" he said.

"Myrtle, please comfort her whatever happened." I whispered.

She nodded as we opened the door of the bathroom carefully, checked that the coast was clear, and set off.


	11. Ginny Likes Hugging Me

"Don't swing your arms like that," Harry muttered to Ron.

"Eh?"

"Crabbe holds them sort of stiff..." I realised.

"How's this?"

"Yeah, that's better..." I replied.

We went down the marble staircase. All we needed now was a Slytherin that we could follow to the Slytherin common room, but there was nobody around.

"Any ideas?" muttered Harry.

"The Slytherins always come up to breakfast from over there," said Ron, nodding at the entrance to the dungeons. The words had barely left his mouth when a girl with long, curly hair emerged from the entrance.

"Excuse me," said Ron, hurrying up to her. "We've forgotten the way to our common room."

"I beg your pardon?" said the girl stiffly. "Our common room? I'm a Ravenclaw."

She walked away, looking suspiciously back at us.

"Why don't you think? The chance that someone we don't know is in Slytherin ksn't that high. Plus, that's Penelope Clearwater, the Ravenclaw prefect." I shout-whispered.

We hurried down the stone steps into the darkness, our footsteps echoing particularly loudly as Vince and Greg's huge feet hit the floor, feeling that this wasn't going to be as easy as we had hoped.

The labyrinthine passages were deserted. We walked deeper and deeper under the school, constantly checking our watches to see how much time we had left. After a quarter of an hour, just when we were getting desperate, we heard a sudden movement ahead.

"Ha!" said Ron excitedly. "There's one of them now!"

The figure was emerging from a side room. As we hurried nearer, however, our hearts sank. It wasn't a Slytherin, it was Percy.

"What're you doing down here?" said Ron in surprise.

Percy looked affronted.

"That," he said stiffly, "is none of your business. It's Crabbe, isn't it?"

"Wh... oh, yeah," said Ron.

"Well, get off to your dormitories," said Percy sternly. "It's not safe to go wandering around dark corridors these days."

"You are," Ron pointed out.

"I," said Percy, drawing himself up, "am a prefect. Nothing's about to attack me."

A voice suddenly echoed behind us. Draco was strolling toward them, and for the first time in my life, I was pleased to see him.

"There you are," he drawled, looking at them. "Have you two been pigging out in the Great Hall all this time? I've been looking for you; I want to show you something really funny. Tanya." He looked at me, running his hand over his hair a bit nervously. Ha! He had a crush on her!

He them glanced witheringly at Percy.

"And what're you doing down here, Weasley?" he sneered.

Percy looked outraged.

"You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect!" he said. "I don't like your attitude!"

Draco sneered and motioned for us to follow him.

We soon were in front of a stone wall.

"What's the new password again?" Draco asked me, eyeing me nervously.

"Pure-blood." I suggested, hoping god was with me.

"Oh, yeah, pure-blood!" Said draco as a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. He marched through it after me, and Harry and Ron followed us.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in high-backed chairs.

"Wait here," said Draco to Harry and Ron, motioning them to a pair of empty chairs set back from the fire. "I'll go and get it my father's just sent it to me."

He came back a minute later, holding what looked like a newspaper clipping. He thrust it under Ron's nose.

"That'll give you a laugh," he said.

Harry saw Ron's eyes widen in shock. He read the clipping quickly, gave a very forced laugh, and handed it to Harry, who then have it to me.

It had been clipped out of the Daily Prophet, and it said:

INQUIRY AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC

Arthur Weasley, Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, was today fined fifty Galleons for bewitching a Muggle car.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy, a governor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, where the enchanted car crashed earlier this year, called today for Mr. Weasley's resignation.

"Weasley has brought the Ministry into disrepute," Mr. Malfoy told our reporter. "He is clearly unfit to draw up our laws and his ridiculous Muggle Protection Act should be scrapped immediately."

Mr. Weasley was unavailable for comment, although his wife told reporters to clear off or she'd set the family ghoul on them.

"Well?" said Malfoy impatiently as I handed the clipping back to him. "Don't you think it's funny?"

"Ha, ha," said Harry bleakly.

"Yeah." I said, lying smoothly. "Except that this was yesterday's and I already read it."

"Arthur Weasley loves Muggles so much he should snap his wand in half and go and join them," said Draco scornfully, trying to hide his blush. You'd never know the Weasleys were pure-bloods, the way they behave."

Ron's... or rather, Vince's... face was contorted with fury.

"What's up with you, Crabbe?" snapped Malfoy.

"Stomachache," Ron grunted.

"Well, go up to the hospital wing and give all those Mudbloods a kick from me," said Malfoy, snickering. "You know, I'm surprised the Daily Prophet hasn't reported all these attacks yet," he went on thoughtfully. "I suppose Dumbledore's trying to hush it all up. He'll be sacked if it doesn't stop soon. Father's always said old Dumbledore's the worst thing that's ever happened to this place. He loves Muggle-borns. A decent headmaster would never've let slime like that Creevey in."

He started taking pictures with an imaginary camera and did a cruel but accurate impression of Colin: "Potter, can I have your picture, Potter? Can I have your autograph? Can I lick your shoes, please, Potter?"

I kaughed convincingly, but Harry and Ron didn't. Draco dropped his hands and looked at us.

"What's the matter with you two?" He adressed those he thought his goons.

Far too late, Harry and Ron forced themselves to laugh, but he seemed satisfied; perhaps Crabbe and Goyle were always slow on the uptake.

"Saint Potter, the Mudbloods' friend," said Dray slowly. "He's another one with no proper wizard feeling, or he wouldn't go around with that jumped up Granger Mudblood and the half-breed scum, Rowan. And people think he's Slytherin's heir!"

We waited with bated breath: Draco was surely seconds away from telling them it was him... but then...

"I wish I knew who it is," said He petulantly. "I could help them."

Ron's jaw dropped so that Crabbe looked even more clueless than usual. Fortunately, Draco didn't notice, and Harry, thinking fast, said, "You must have some idea who's behind it all..."

"You know I haven't, Goyle, how many times do I have to tell you?" snapped Draco. "And Father won't tell me anything about the last time the Chamber was opened either. Of course, it was fifty years ago, so it was before his time, but he knows all about it, and he says that it was all kept quiet and it'll look suspicious if I know too much about it. But I know one thing, last time the Chamber of Secrets was opened, a Mudblood died. So I bet it's a matter of time before one of them's killed this time... I hope it's Granger," he said with relish.

Ron was clenching Crabbe's gigantic fists. Feeling that it would be a bit of a giveaway if Ron punched Malfoy, I shot him a warning look and said, "D'you know if the person who opened the Chamber last time was caught?"

"Oh, yeah... whoever it was was expelled," said Malfoy. "They're probably still in Azkaban."

"Azkaban?" said Harry, puzzled.

"Azkaban, the wizard prison, Goyle," said Malfoy, looking at him in disbelief "Honestly, if you were any slower, you'd be going backward."

He shifted restlessly in his chair and said, "Father says to keep my head down and let the Heir of Slytherin get on with it. He says the school needs ridding of all the Mudblood filth, but not to get mixed up in it. Of course, he's got a lot on his plate at the moment. You know the Ministry of Magic raided our manor last week?"

I faked concern.

"Yeah..." said Malfoy. "Luckily, they didn't find much. Father's got some very valuable Dark Arts stuff. But luckily, we've got our own secret chamber under the drawing-room floor."

"Ho!" said Ron.

Malfoy looked at him. So did Harrh and I. Ron blushed. Even his hair was turning red. His nose was also slowly lengthening. Our hour was up, Ron was turning back into himself, and from the look of horror he was suddenly giving us, we must be, too.

They both jumped to their feet. I got up swiftly, as if surprised.

"Medicine for my stomach," Ron grunted, and without further ado they sprinted the length of the Slytherin common room, hurled themselves at the stone wall, and dashed up the passage, hoping against hope that Malfoy hadn't noticed anything. I followed them a bit more gracefully.

"Well, it wasn't a complete waste of time," Ron panted, closing the bathroom door behind them. "I know we still haven't found out who's doing the attacks, but I'm going to write to Dad tomorrow and tell him to check under the Malfoys' drawing room."

Harry checked his face in the cracked mirror. He was back to normal. He put his glasses on as Ron hammered on the door of Hermione's stall.

"Hermione, come out, we've got loads to tell you."

"Go away!" Hermione squeaked.

Harry and Ron and I looked at each other.

"What's the matter?" said Ron. "You must be back to normal by now, we are."

But Myrtle glided suddenly through the stall door. She didn't look like she'd been succesful in comforting Hermione.

We heard the lock slide back and Hermione emerged, sobbing, her robes pulled up over her head.

"What's up?" said Ron uncertainly. "Have you still got Millicent's nose or something?"

Hermione let her robes fall and Ron backed into the sink.

Her face was covered in black fur. Her eyes had turned yellow and there were long, pointed ears poking through her hair.

"It was a c-cat hair!" she howled. "M-Millicent Bulstrode m-must have a cat! And the p-potion isn't supposed to be used for animal transformations!"

"Uh-oh," I said.

"You'll be teased something dreadful," said Myrtle glumly, remembering when she was teased.

"It's okay, Hermione," said Harry quickly. "We'll take you up to the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey never asks too many questions...

It took a long time to persuade Hermione to leave the bathroom. Myrtle looked a bit depressed herself.

Hermione remained in the hospital wing for several weeks. There was a flurry of rumor about her disappearance when the rest of the school arrived back from their Christmas holidays, because of course everyone thought that she had been attacked. So many students past the hospital wing trying to catch a glimpse of her that Madam Pomfrey took out her curtains again and placed them around Hermione's bed, to spare her the shame of being seen with a furry face.

Harry and Ron went to visit her every evening. When the new term started, they brought her each day's homework.

"If I'd sprouted whiskers, I's take a break from work," said Ron, tipping a stack of books onto Hermione's bedside table one evening.

"Don't be silly, Ron, I've got to keep up," said Hermione briskly. Her spirits were greatly improved by the fact that all the hair had gone from her face and her eyes were turning slowly back to brown. "I don't suppose you've got any new leads?" she added in a whisper, so that Madam Pomfrey couldn't hear her.

"Nothing," said Harry gloomily.

"I was so sure it was Malfoy," said Ron, for about the hundredth time.

"What's that?" asked Harry, pointing to something gold sticking out from under Hermione's pillow.

"Just a get well card," said Hermione hastily, trying to poke it out of sight, but I was too quick for her. I pulled it out, flicked it open, and read aloud:

"To Miss Granger, wishing you a speedy recovery, from your concerned teacher, Professor Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most- Charming-Smile Award. "

I looked up to see Ron looking at Hermione, disgusted.

"You sleep with this under your pillow?"

But Hermione was spared answering by Madam Pomfrey sweeping over with her evening dose of medicine.

"Is Lockhart the smarmiest bloke you've ever met, or what?" Ron said to us as we left the infirmary and started up the stairs toward Gryffindor Tower. Snape had given us a lot of homework, and they hadn't even started, while I was done. While they were writing and I reading.

Suddenly, there was a bonk from upstairs, and Myrtle started shouting angrily.

"What in the world is that about?" I whispered to the boys.

"I don't know, Let's go, I'm bored." Ron grumbled.

We discreetly got out and ran to the bathroom. Myrtle was standing there, looking like smoke was about to come out of her ears and nose.

"Come to throw more books?" She asked angrily when she heard the door open. "Oh, it's you guys." She said, relieved.

"What happened?" I asked.

She huffed. "Someone came in and threw that book over there right through my stomach!" She exclaimed.

Harry went to grab it.

"Did you see who it was?" Asked Ron.

"No, I was trying to sleep." She said.

"Wait, you sleep?" He asked.

"No, but I was trying." She sighed.

"Look, guys. This is some diary of T M Riddle.

The three of us headed to Harry.

"Who's that?" Asked Ron.

"He was a guy about two years older than me when I was in school." Myrtle said. "Everybody knew of him."

"Maybe it talks more of the chamber!" Ron said excitedly.

"Maybe."

"Guys, we should go, I hear someone at the stairs, let's use the passageway down the hall." I said.

"Bye." Myrtle said, still not in the greatsest mood.

Hermione left the hospital wing, de-whiskered, tail-less, and furfree, at the beginning of February. On her first evening back in Gryffindor Tower, we showed her T. M. Riddle's diary and told her the story of how we had found it.

"Oooh, it might have hidden powers," said Hermione enthusiastically, taking the diary and looking at it closely.

"If it has, it's hiding them very well," said Ron. "Maybe it's shy. I don't know why you don't chuck it, Harry."

"I wish I knew why someone did try to chuck it," said Harry. "I wouldn't mind knowing how Riddle got an award for special services to Hogwarts either."

"Could've been anything," said Ron. "Maybe he got thirty .s or saved a teacher from the giant squid."

But I could tell from the arrested look on Hermione's face that she was thinking what I had thought of that first night.

"What?" said Ron, looking from me to her.

"Well, the Chamber of Secrets was opened fifty years ago, wasn't it?" She said. "That's what Malfoy said."

"Yeah..."said Ron slowly.

"And this diary is fifty years old," said Hermione, tapping it excitedly.

"Told you." I said.

"and so?"

"Oh, Ron, wake up," snapped Hermione. "We know the person who opened the Chamber last time was expelled fifty years ago. We know T. M. Riddle got an award for special services to the school fifty years ago. Well, what if Riddle got his special award for catching the Heir of Slytherin? His diary would probably tell us everything, where the Chamber is, and how to open it, and what sort of creature lives in it, the person who's behind the attacks this time wouldn't want that lying around, would they?"

"That's a brilliant theory, Hermione," said Ron, "with just one tiny little flaw. There's nothing written in his diary."

But Hermione was pulling her wand out of her bag.

"It might be invisible ink!" she whispered.

She tapped the diary three times and said, "Aparecium!"

Nothing happened. Undaunted, Hermione shoved her hand back into her bag and pulled out what appeared to be a bright red eraser.

"It's a Revealer, I got it in Diagon Alley," she said.

She rubbed hard on January first. Nothing happened.

"I'm telling you, there's nothing to find in there," said Ron. "Riddle just got a diary for Christmas and couldn't be bothered filling it in."

We cracked up.

Apparently, Lockhart thought a morale-booster was in need. Lockhart's idea of a morale-booster became clear at breakfast time on February fourteenth. Ron, Hermione and I came down, sans Harry, to find that the walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still, heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. I went over to the Gryffindor table, to be intercepted by a dwarf dressed like cupid, who onloaded about a dozen of red and pimk cards into my hands.

"What's going on?" Harry asked us, sitting down and wiping confetti off his bacon, just a second after we actually sat.

Ron pointed to the teachers' table, apparently too disgusted to speak. Lockhart, wearing lurid pink robes to match the decorations, was waving for silence. The teachers on either side of him were looking stony-faced. From where I sat, I could see a muscle going in Professor McGonagall's cheek. Snape looked as though someone had just fed him a large beaker of Skele-Gro.

"Happy Valentine's Day!" Lockhart shouted. "And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all, and it doesn't end here!"

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs like the one who had given me the cards I still hadn't opened.

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" beamed Lockhart. "They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn't stop here! I'm sure my colleagues will want to enter into the spirit of the occasion! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you're at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I've ever met, the sly old dog!"

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands. Snape was looking as though the first person to ask him for a Love Potion would be force-fed poison.

"Please, Hermione, tell me you weren't one of the forty-six, said Ron as they left the Great Hall for their first lesson. Hermione suddenly became very interested in searching her bag for her schedule and didn't answer.

I had a look at my cards, and the ones who had sent them. The only nice ones were the ones which sang stupid songs in a blaring volume, from Fred and George.

All day long, the dwarfs kept barging into our classes to deliver valentines, to the annoyance of the teachers, and late that afternoon as we Gryffindors were walking upstairs for Charms, one of the dwarfs caught up with Harry.

"Oy, you! 'Arty Potter!" shouted a particularly grim-looking dwarf, elbowing people out of the way to get to Harry.

Harry tried to escape. The dwarf, however, cut his way through the crowd by kicking people's shins, and reached him before he'd gone two paces.

"I've got a musical message to deliver to 'Arry Potter in person," he said, twanging his harp in a threatening sort of way.

"Not here," Harry hissed, trying to escape.

"Stay still!" grunted the dwarf, grabbing hold of Harry's bag and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Harry snarled, tugging.

With a loud ripping noise, his bag split in two. His books, wand, parchment, and quill spilled onto the floor and his ink bottle smashed over everything.

Harry scrambled around, trying to pick it all up before the dwarf started singing, causing something of a holdup in the corridor.

"What's going on here?" came the cold, drawling voice of Dray. Harry started stuffing everything feverishly into his ripped bag, desperate to get away.

"What's all this commotion?" said another familiar voice as Percy arrived.

Harry tried to make a run for it, but the dwarf seized him around the knees and brought him crashing to the floor. I didn't try to help, it was all too funny.

"Right," he said, sitting on Harry's ankles. "Here is your singing valentine:

His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad, His hair is as dark as a blackboard. I wish he was mine, he's really divine, The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Harry immediately got up, as Percy and I did our bests to disperse the crowd, some of whom were crying with mirth.

"Off you go, off you go, the bell rang five minutes ago, off to class, now," Percy said, shooing some of the younger students away. "And you, Malfoy..."

I saw Malfoy stoop and snatch up something. Leering, he showed it to Vince and Greg, and I realized that he'd got Riddle's diary.

"Give that back," said Harry quietly, he must've seen that too.

"Wonder what Potter's written in this?" said Dray, who obviously hadn't noticed the year on the cover and thought he had Harry's own diary. A hush fell over the onlookers. Ginny was staring from the diary to Harry, looking terrified. What was that about?

"Hand it over, Malfoy," said Percy sternly.

"When I've had a look," said Draco, waving the diary tauntingly at Harry.

Percy said, "As a school prefect..." but Harry had lost his temper. He pulled out his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and just as Snape had disarmed Lockhart, so I found the diary shooting out of Draco's hand into the air. Ron, grinning broadly, caught it.

"Harry!" said Percy loudly. "No magic in the corridors. I'll have to report this, you know!"

Draco went away, but not before he yelled at Ginny, "I don't think Potter liked your valentine much!"

Ginny covered her face with her hands and ran into class. Snarling, Ron pulled out his wand, too, but Harry pulled him away.

It wasn't until we had reached Professor Flitwick's class that I noticed something rather odd about Riddle's diary, which I was now holding. All of Harry's other books were drenched in scarlet ink. The diary, however, was as clean as it had been before the ink bottle had smashed all over it. I tried to point this out to Ron, but Ron was having trouble with his wand again; large purple bubbles were blossoming out of the end, and he wasn't much interested in anything else.

That night, Harry and I were left alone in the common room, and I pulled out the diary.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, looking up from his parchment.

"It's weird. All the ink on this book is gone. I think it was absorbed." I explained.

I held my quill over it, and let a drop of ink fall. The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then, as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Excited, Harry took the book and wrote, "My name is Harry Potter."

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. Then, at last, something happened.

Oozing back out of the page, in the same ink, came words we had never written.

"Hello, Harry Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"

These words, too, faded away, but not before Harry had started to scribble back.

"Someone threw it at Moaning Myrtle."

I looked at him in disapproval but he was waiting eagerly for Riddle's reply.

"Lucky that I recorded my memories in some more lasting way than ink. But I always knew that there would be those who would not want this diary read. "

"What do you mean?" Harry scrawled, blotting the page in his excitement.

"I mean that this diary holds memories of terrible things. Things that were covered up. Things that happened at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "

"That's where I am now," Harry wrote quickly. "I'm at Hogwarts, and horrible stuff's been happening. Do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Riddle's reply came quickly, his writing becoming untidier, as though he was hurrying to tell all he knew.

"Of course I know about the Chamber of Secrets. In my day, they told us it was a legend, that it did not exist. But this was a lie. In my fifth year, the Chamber was opened and the monster attacked several students, finally killing one. I caught the person who'd opened the Chamber and he was expelled. But the Headmaster, Professor Dippet, ashamed that such a thing had happened at Hogwarts, forbade me to tell the truth. A story was given out that the girl had died in a freak accident. They gave me a nice, shiny, engraved trophy for my trouble and warned me to keep my mouth shut. But I knew it could happen again. The monster lived on, and the one who had the power to release it was not imprisoned."

"It's happening again now. There have been three attacks and no one seems to know who's behind them. Who was it last time?"

"I can show you, if you like, "came Riddle's reply. "You don't have to take my word for it. I can take you inside my memory of the night when I caught him. "

Harry hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary.

"Let me show you." Riddle wrote again.

Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

"0K."

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping halfway through the month of June. Mouth hanging open, I saw that the little square for June thirteenth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. His hands trembling slightly, he raised the book to press his eye against the little window, and before I knew what was happening, he was sucked in. I did the same, and I found myself tilting forward; the window was widening, I felt my body leave the couch, and I was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page, into a whirl of color and shadow.

I felt his feet hit solid ground, and stood, shaking, next to Harry, as the blurred shapes around me came suddenly into focus.

This circular room with the sleeping portraits was Dumbledore's office, but it wasn't Dumbledore who was sitting behind the desk. A wizened, frail looking wizard, bald except for a few wisps of white hair, was reading a letter by candlelight. This was dippet, the last headmaster.

"I'm sorry," Harry said shakily. "I didn't mean to butt in."

"This is a memory, he won't see or hear you." I told him.

Indeed, the wizard didn't look up. He continued to read, frowning slightly. Harry drew nearer to his desk and stammered, "Er, I'll just go, shall I?"

"Told you." I said when he was ignored.

The wizard folded up the letter with a sigh, stood up, walked past us, and went to draw the curtains at his window.

The sky outside the window was ruby-red; it seemed to be sunset. The wizard went back to the desk, sat down, and twiddled his thumbs, watching the door.

There was suddenly a knock on the office door.

"Enter," said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

A boy of about sixteen entered, taking off his pointed hat. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller than Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle. He looked nervous.

"Sit down," said Dippet. "I've just been reading the letter you sent me."

"Oh," said Riddle. He sat down, gripping his hands together very tightly.

"My dear boy," said Dipper kindly, "I cannot possibly let you stay at school over the summer. Surely you want to go home for the holidays?"

"No," said Riddle at once. "Id much rather stay at Hogwarts than go back to that... to that."

"You live in a Muggle orphanage during the holidays, I believe?" said Dippet curiously.

"Yes, sir," said Riddle, reddening slightly.

"You are Muggle-born?"

"Half-blood, sir," said Riddle. "Muggle father, witch mother."

"And are both your parents?" He trailed off.

"My mother died just after I was born, sir. They told me at the orphanage she lived just long enough to name me. Tom after my father, Marvolo after my grandfather."

Dippet clucked his tongue sympathetically.

"The thing is, Tom," he sighed, "Special arrangements might have been made for you, but in the current circumstances..."

"You mean all these attacks, sir?" said Riddle, and Harry's heart leapt, and he moved closer, scared of missing anything.

"Precisely," said the headmaster. "My dear boy, you must see how foolish it would be of me to allow you to remain at the castle when term ends. Particularly in light of the recent tragedy... the death of that poor little girl... You will be safer by far at your orphanage. As a matter of fact, the Ministry of Magic is even now talking about closing the school. We are no nearer locating the er... source of all this unpleasantness..."

Riddle's eyes had widened.

"Sir, if the person was caught, if it all stopped..."

"What do you mean?" said Dippet with a squeak in his voice, sitting up in his chair. "Riddle, do you mean you know something about these attacks?"

"No, sir." said Riddle quickly.

But I could tell he knew something.

Dippet sank back, looking faintly disappointed.

"You may go, Tom..."

Riddle slid off his chair and slouched out of the room. Harry and I followed him.

Down the moving spiral staircase they went, emerging next to the gargoyle in the darkening corridor. Riddle stopped, and so did we, watching him. I could tell that Riddle was doing some serious thinking. He was biting his lip, his forehead furrowed.

Then, as though he had suddenly reached a decision, he hurried off, I gliding noiselessly behind him, and Harry clomping behind me. We didn't see another person until they reached the entrance hall, when a tall wizard with long, sweeping auburn hair and a beard called to Riddle from the marble staircase.

"What are you doing, wandering around this late, Tom?"

I gaped at the wizard. He was none other than a fifty-year-younger Dumbledore.

"I had to see the headmaster, sir," said Riddle.

"Well, hurry off to bed," said Dumbledore, giving Riddle exactly the kind of penetrating stare I knew so well. "Best not to roam the corridors these days. Not since..."

He sighed heavily, bade Riddle good night, and strode off. Riddle watched him walk out of sight and then, moving quickly, headed straight down the stone steps to the dungeons, with us in hot pursuit.

But to our disappointment, Riddle led him not into a hidden passageway or a secret tunnel but to the very dungeon in which we had Potions with Snape. The torches hadn't been lit, and when Riddle pushed the door almost closed, I could only just see him, standing stock-still by the door, watching the passage outside.

It felt to me that we were there for at least an hour. All I could see was the figure of Riddle at the door, staring through the crack, waiting like a statue. And just when I had stopped feeling expectant and tense and started wishing we could return to the present, I heard something move beyond the door.

Someone was creeping along the passage. I easily heard whoever it was pass the dungeon where we and Riddle were hidden. Riddle, quiet as a shadow, edged through the door and followed, us behind him.

For perhaps five minutes we followed the footsteps, until Riddle stopped suddenly, his head inclined in the direction of new noises. I heard a door creak open, and then someone speaking in a hoarse whisper.

"Come on... I have to get you out of here... Come on now... in the box..."

There was something familiar about that voice...

Riddle suddenly jumped around the corner. I stepped out behind him. Harry and I could see the dark outline of a huge boy who was crouching in front of an open door, a very large box next to it.

"Evening, Rubeus," said Riddle sharply.

The boy slammed the door shut and stood up.

"What are you doing down here, Tom?"

Riddle stepped closer.

"It's all over," he said. "I'm going to have to turn you in, Rubeus. They're talking about closing Hogwarts if the attacks don't stop."

"No at you..."

"I don't think you meant to kill anyone. But monsters don't make good pets. I suppose you just let it out for exercise and..."

"It never killed anyone!" said the large boy, backing against the closed door. From behind him, I could hear a funny rustling and clicking.

"Come on, Rubeus," said Riddle, moving yet closer. "The dead girl's parents will be here tomorrow. The least Hogwarts can do is make sure that the thing that killed their daughter is slaughtered..."

"It wasn't him!" roared the boy, his voice echoing in the dark passage. "He wouldn't! He never..."

"Stand aside," said Riddle, drawing out his wand.

His spell lit the corridor with a sudden flaming light. The door behind the large boy flew open with such force it knocked him into the wall opposite. And out of it came something that made Harry let out a long, piercing scream unheard by anyone but me.

A vast, low-slung, hairy body and a tangle of black legs; a gleam of many eyes and a pair of razor-sharp pincers, Riddle raised his wand again, but he was too late. The thing bowled him over as it scuttled away, tearing up the corridor and out of sight. Riddle scrambled to his feet, looking after it; he raised his wand, but the huge boy leapt on him, seized his wand, and threw him back down, yelling, "NOOOOOO!"

The scene whirled, the darkness became complete; I felt himself falling and, with a crash, I landed spread-eagled on the floor in the Gryffindor common room, Harry landed on me.

Before we had had time to regain his breath, the portrait opened and Ron came in, followed by Hermione.

"There you are," he said.

We sat up, sweating and shaking.

"What's up?" said Ron, looking at us with concern.

"It was Hagrid, Ron. Hagrid opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago." Harry said.

I had always known that Hagrid had an unfortunate liking for large and monstrous creatures. During our first year at Hogwarts he had tried to raise a dragon in his little wooden house, and it would be a long time before we forgot the giant, three-headed dog he'd christened "Fluffy." And if, as a boy, Hagrid had heard that a monster was hidden somewhere in the castle, I was sure he'd have gone to any lengths for a glimpse of it. He'd probably thought it was a shame that the monster had been cooped up so long, and thought it deserved the chance to stretch its many legs; I could just imagine the thirteen-year-old Hagrid trying to fit a leash and collar on it. But I was equally certain that Hagrid would never have meant to kill anybody.

I half wished we hadn't found out how to work Riddle's diary. Again and again Ron and Hermione made us recount what we'd seen, until we were heartily sick of telling them and sick of the long, circular conversations that followed.

"Riddle might have got the wrong person," said Hermione. "Maybe it was some other monster that was attacking people..."

"How many monsters d'you think this place can hold?" Ron asked dully.

"We always knew Hagrid had been expelled," said Harry miserably. "And the attacks must've stopped after Hagrid was kicked out. Otherwise, Riddle wouldn't have got his award."

Ron tried a different tack.

"Riddle does sound like Percy, who asked him to squeal on Hagrid, anyway?"

"But the monster had killed someone, Ron," said Hermione.

"And Riddle was going to go back to some Muggle orphanage if they closed Hogwarts," said Harry. "I don't blame him for wanting to stay here..."

"You met Hagrid down Knockturn Alley, didn't you, Harry?"

"He was buying a Flesh-Eating Slug Repellent," said Harry quickly.

The four of us fell silent. After a long pause, Hermione voiced the knottiest question of all in a hesitant voice.

"Do you think we should go and ask Hagrid about it all?"

"That'd be a cheerful visit," said Ron. "'Hello, Hagrid. Tell us, have you been setting anything mad and hairy loose in the castle lately?"'

In the end, we decided that we would not say anything to Hagrid unless there was another attack, and as more and more days went by with no whisper from the disembodied voice, we became hopeful that we would never need to talk to him about why he had been expelled. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everybody seemed to think that the attacker, whoever it was, had retired for good. Peeves had finally got bored of his "Oh, Potter, you rotter" song.

The mandrakes were coming out nicely as well.  
"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told Harry. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing." The professor would say.

Us second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose our subjects for the third year, a matter that Hermione and I, at least, took very seriously.

"It could affect our whole future," she told Harry and Ron as we pored over lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

"I just want to give up Potions," said Harry.

"We can't," said Ron gloomily. "We keep all our old subjects, or I'd've ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"But that's very important!" said Hermione, shocked.

"Not the way Lockhart teaches it," said Ron. "I haven't learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose."

Neville had been sent letters from all the witches and wizards in his family, all giving him different advice on what to choose. Confused and worried, he sat reading the subject lists with his tongue poking out, asking people whether they thought Arithmancy sounded more difficult than the study of Ancient Runes. Dean, who, like Harry, had grown up with Muggles, ended up closing his eyes and jabbing his wand at the list, then picking the subjects it landed on. Hermione and I took nobody's advice but signed up for everything, though I didn't go for divination due to Bill's stories.

Hermione and I were sitting alone in the common room, when Harry and Ron ran down.

"Neville found my things all over the place. The diary is missing." Harry said outright.

"But, only a Gryffindor could have stolen, nobody else knows our password!"

"Exactly," said Harry.

The next day, Harry and I were arguning over quidditch, and Ron and Hermione watching when I heard the Hiss again.

"Hashesesh... Shahass... Sahh..."

Harry shouted aloud and Ron and Hermione both jumped away from him in alarm.

"The voice!" said Harry, looking over his shoulder. "I just heard it again, didn't you?"

"I heard a hiss." I said.

Ron shook his head, wide-eyed. Hermione, however, clapped a hand to her forehead.

"Harry, I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!"

And she sprinted away, up the stairs, me behind her.

When I arrived, she already had a book, and was seated, flicking through it.

"What did you understand?" I asked.

"Nearly everything." She said. "Ginny, come." She beckoned Ginny over.

Ginny came her, but paled when she saw what page was open. Hermione didn't notice.

"It's a basilisk, that's why Harry hears a voice and you a hiss, he speaks parseltounge! And it goes through the the pipes!" She scribbled that down and silently tore the page. "And the petrified, people, they all saw the reflections! We've got to get to Harry and tell him. Row, do you have a mirror?"

I handed it to her.

"You two, stay here." She said.

She went away.

Ginny and I looked at each other, terrified. Suddenly, she ran off. I ran after her, but she was... faster than humanly possible. I soon lost her.

"It's her." I realised. "But not really, she can't run that fast."

I ran to the girl dorms, but I didn't find Hermione. I looked around, and decided to go into Ginny's. She was in a ball, crying her eyes out.

"Ginny." I called out.

"What?" She sobbed.

"I know it's you. Don't worry, we'll stop this." I said.

She ran forth and hugged me, tightly. She stayed there, hugging tighter, tighter, way too tight.

"Ginny, please stop." I said, smiling.

My smile dropped when she kept on going. I couldn't breathe, or fight her off. This was going to leave some bruises. Her arm suddenly shot out and raised me by the neck. That was when I passed out.


	12. George Gets His Head Flattened

I opened my eyes slowly. I was in a dimly lit room, which was made of stone. I was sitting, magically bound to a statue. I tried to get out.  
"You won't be able to." Said a voice, Tom Riddle's voice. He came out of the shadows.  
"You're all in for dramatism, aren't you?" I asked.  
He looked startled at the question, but then smiled cruelly. It reminded me of someone.  
"You're Lord Voldemort." I stated.  
"Yes. That is my preferred name." He nodded.  
"So, this is the chamber of secrets?" I asked.  
"Yes." He said.  
"It's cool. Both temperature and awesomeness wise." I noted.  
He looked at me, startled. "You're peculiar." He studied me.  
"That's whay they say." I shrugged.  
He knelt to my eye level. "A normal person would be scared."  
"I know." I said. "But a normal person wouldn't become a snake-faced man."  
"I was told that was what I did." He nodded.  
"You're from the past?" I asked.  
"Yes. That would be correct."  
"You are a memory from that diary." I stated, tilting my head to the book on the floor.  
He nodded. "You aren't half bad to talk to while I wait." He admitted.  
"I do prefer this to the snake who killed Harry's parents." I said, playing along. "No offense."  
"None taken, I'd prefer not to look like a snake." He raised his eyebrow.  
"So, why am I here, and where is Ginny?" I asked.  
"Ginny should arrive here soon. Then Potter will come, and will be done fore." He turned around to look at the door, and I concentrated on my wand, which was in his pocket.  
"Accio." I whispered.  
The wand came to me, and I used it to melt cancel the spell tying me to the statue.  
"She should be here in a minute." He said, turning, and coming face to face with an armed second year, how scary.  
He laughed. "Not half bad for a half-breed."  
"Will someone explain to me what that's about? I am a half-blood!"  
"It's okay not to know." He smirked, whiping out his wand.  
He did the first move. "Crucio."  
I jumped out of the way. I raised my wand. "Expelliarmus."  
He blocked it.  
"Avada Kedavra." He exclaimed.  
"Rictumsempra!" I shot as I ducked.  
"Imperio." He said.  
It missed again. But this time he threw another one, which hit me in the forehead.  
"SLEEP!" He ordered.  
I shook my head, trying to fight it with the help of my occlumency shield.  
"I said, SLEEP!"  
I shook it off. I found myself on the floor, panting heavily.  
"That was good for a second year." He admitted. "But it's over. You're on the floor."  
I heard a noise, and I turned to see Ginny come in, with a blank face which slwowly slipped away. Tom smirked evilly.  
"Crucio!"  
Okay, second time in two years, great. I waited for it to end, as well as Ginny's screaming. I uttered not a sound.  
The last thing I heard was Stupefy, followed by a clunk, and another stupefy, as I fell to the ground, limp.

"Ginny, Rowan, please wake up." I heard harry call.  
"They won't wake," said Tom's soft voice.  
I kept my eyes closed.  
"Tom, Tom Riddle? What d'you mean, they won't wake?" Harry said desperately. "They're not, they're not?"  
"They're still alive," said Riddle. "But only just."  
"Are you a ghost?" Harry said uncertainly.  
"A memory," said Riddle quietly. "Preserved in a diary for fifty years."  
"You've got to help me, Tom," Harry said, raising my head. "We've got to get them out of here. There's a basilisk... I don't know where it is, but it could be along any moment... Please, help me..."  
Harry tried to pick me up, but he couldn't, so he lay me back down.  
"Did you see?" Harry asked. "Thanks," He paused. "Listen," said Harry urgently. "We've got to go! If the basilisk comes..."  
"It won't come until it is called," said Riddle calmly.  
"What d'you mean?" he said. "Look, give me my wand, I might need it..."  
"You won't be needing it," he said. Yep, he liked being dramatic.  
"What d'you mean, I won't be needing it?"  
"I've waited a long time for this, Harry Potter," said Riddle. "For the chance to see you. To speak to you."  
"Look," said Harry, "I don't think you get it. We're in the Chamber of Secrets. We can talk later."  
"We're going to talk now," said Riddle, a smile present in his voice.  
"How did they get like this?" Harry asked slowly.  
"Well, that's an interesting question," said Riddle pleasantly. "And quite a long story. I suppose the real reason Ginny Weasley's like this is because she opened her heart and spilled all her secrets to an invisible stranger, and Rowan Zar for being nosy."  
"What are you talking about?" said Harry.  
"The diary," said Riddle. "My diary. Little Ginny's been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes, how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how she didn't think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her... It's very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl," he went on. "But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one's ever understood me like you, Tom... I'm so glad I've got this diary to confide in... It's like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket..."  
Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn't suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry's neck.  
"If I say it myself, Harry, I've always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted... I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start giving a little of my soul back into her..."  
"What d'you mean?" Asked Harry.  
"Haven't you guessed yet, Harry Potter?" said Riddle softly. "Ginny Weasley opened the Chamber of Secrets. She strangled the school roosters and daubed threatening messages on the walls. She set the Serpent of Slytherin on four Mudbloods, and the Squib's cat.  
"No," Harry whispered.  
"Yes," said Riddle, calmly. "Of course, she didn't know what she was doing at first. It was very amusing. I wish you could have seen her new diary entries... far more interesting, they became... Dear Tom," he recited, watching Harry's horrified face, 'I think I'm losing my memory. There are rooster feathers all over my robes and I don't know how they got there. Dear Tom, l can't remember what I did on the night of Halloween, but a cat was attacked and I've got paint all down my front. Dear Tom, Percy keeps telling me I'm pale and I'm not myself. I think he suspects me... There was another attack today and I don't know where I was. Tom, what am I going to do? I think I'm going mad... I think I'm the one attacking everyone, Tom!" Yes, it took a very long time for stupid little Ginny to stop trusting her diary," said Riddle. "But she finally became suspicious and tried to dispose of it. And that's where you came in, Harry. You found it, and I couldn't have been more delighted. Of all the people who could have picked it up, it was you, the very person I was most anxious to meet..."  
"And why did you want to meet me?" said Harry.  
"Well, you see, Ginny told me all about you, Harry," said Riddle. "Your whole fascinating story. I knew I must find out more about you, talk to you, meet you if I could. So I decided to show you my famous capture of that great oaf, Hagrid, to gain your trust..."  
"Hagrid's my friend," said Harry, his voice now shaking. "And you framed him, didn't you? I thought you made a mistake, but..."  
Riddle laughed his high laugh again.  
"It was my word against Hagrid's, Harry. Well, you can imagine how it looked to old Armando Dippet. On the one hand, Tom Riddle, poor but brilliant, parentless but so brave, school prefect, model student... on the other hand, big, blundering Hagrid, in trouble every other week, trying to raise werewolf cubs under his bed, sneaking off to the Forbidden Forest to wrestle trolls... but I admit, even I was surprised how well the plan worked. I thought someone must realize that Hagrid couldn't possibly be the Heir of Slytherin. It had taken me five whole years to find out everything I could about the Chamber of Secrets and discover the secret entrance... as though Hagrid had the brains, or the power!  
"Only the Transfiguration teacher, Dumbledore, seemed to think Hagrid was innocent. He persuaded Dippet to keep Hagrid and train him as gamekeeper. Yes, I think Dumbledore might have guessed... Dumbledore never seemed to like me as much as the other teachers did..."  
"I bet Dumbledore saw right through you," said Harry.  
"Well, he certainly kept an annoyingly close watch on me after Hagrid was expelled," said Riddle carelessly. "I knew it wouldn't be safe to open the Chamber again while I was still at school. But I wasn't going to waste those long years I'd spent searching for it. I decided to leave behind a diary, preserving my sixteen-year-old self in its pages, so that one day, with luck, I would be able to lead another in my footsteps, and finish Salazar Slytherin's noble work."

"Well, you haven't finished it," said Harry triumphantly. "No one's died this time, not even the cat. In a few hours the Mandrake Draught will be ready and everyone who was Petrified will be all right again..."

"Haven't I already told you," said Riddle quietly, "that killing Mudbloods doesn't matter to me anymore? For many months now, my new target has been you. Imagine how angry I was when the next time my diary was opened, it was Ginny who was writing to me, not you. She saw you with the diary, you see, and panicked. What if you found out how to work it, and I repeated all her secrets to you? What if, even worse, I told you who'd been strangling roosters? So the foolish little brat waited until your dormitory was deserted and stole it back. But I knew what I must do. It was clear to me that you were on the trail of Slytherin's heir. From everything Ginny had told me about you, I knew you would go to any lengths to solve the mystery, particularly if one of your best friends was attacked. And Ginny had told me the whole school was buzzing because you could speak Parseltongue... So I made Ginny write her own farewell on the wall and come down here to wait, where nosy Rowan was already half-dead. She struggled and cried and became very boring. But there isn't much life left in her... She put too much into the diary, into me. Enough to let me leave its pages at last... I have been waiting for you to appear since we arrived here. I knew you'd come. I have many questions for you, Harry Potter."

"Like what?" Harry spat.

"Well," said Riddle pleasantly, "How is it that you a skinny boy with no extraordinary magical talent managed to defeat the greatest wizard of all time? How did you escape with nothing but a scar, while Lord Voldemort's powers were destroyed?"

"Why do you care how I escaped?" said Harry slowly. "Voldemort was after your time..."

I fought the urge to facepalm.

"Voldemort," said Riddle softly, "is my past, present, and future, Harry Potter..."

I heard the air steam.

"You see?" he whispered. "It was a name I was already using at Hogwarts, to my most intimate friends only, of course. You think I was going to use my filthy Muggle father's name forever? I, in whose veins runs the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself, through my mother's side? I, keep the name of a foul, common Muggle, who abandoned me even before I was born, just because he found out his wife was a witch? No, Harry, I fashioned myself a new name, a name I knew wizards everywhere would one day fear to speak, when I had become the greatest sorcerer in the world!"

"You're not," Harry replied, his quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Harry, breathing fast. "Sorry to disappoint you and all that, but the greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. Everyone says so. Even when you were strong, you didn't dare try and take over at Hogwarts. Dumbledore saw through you when you were at school and he still frightens you now, wherever you're hiding these days."

"Dumbledore's been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harry retorted.

Suddenly, music was coming from somewhere. I heard the flap of wings.

"That's a phoenix." said Riddle.

"Fawkes?" Harry breathed.

"And that," said Riddle slowly, "that's the old school Sorting Hat."

Riddle began to laugh again. He laughed so hard that the dark chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Harry Potter? Do you feel safe now?"

Harry didn't answer.

"To business, Harry," said Riddle, still smiling broadly. "Twice, in your past, in my future, we have met. And twice I failed to kill you. How did you survive? Tell me everything. The longer you talk," he added softly, "the longer you stay alive."

"No one knows why you lost your powers when you attacked me," said Harry abruptly. "I don't know myself But I know why you couldn't kill me. Because my mother died to save me. My common Muggle-born mother," he added with suppressed rage. "She stopped you killing me. And I've seen the real you, I saw you last year. You're a wreck. You're barely alive. That's where all your power got you. You're in hiding. You're ugly, you're foul.."

Riddle interrupted him. "So. Your mother died to save you. Yes, that's a powerful countercharm. I can see now... there is nothing special about you, after all. I wondered, you see. There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the great Slytherin himself We even look something alike... but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me. That's all I wanted to know. Now, Harry, I'm going to teach you a little lesson. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin, against famous Harry Potter, and the best weapons Dumbledore can give him..."

I heard footsteps, and suddenly... "Sahha, Saiesh, Sohosssahhiet. "

I heard rock moving, and suddenly, I could hear the basilisk moving. I listened as Harry backed away until he hit the wall.

"Sohassah. "

I suddenly jumped up, summoning my wand again, my eyes on the floor. I ran towards the heavy breathing of harry, dodging a curse I heard flying to me. I could feel that the basilisk was moving toward Harry; I could hear its heavy body slithering heavily across the dusty floor. Harry started to run. Suddenly, Voldemort's cold laugh rang through the chamber, and I heard Harry fall to the floor. A second later, there was a loud, explosive spitting sound right above us, and then something heavy hit the floor so hard that the Chamber shook. There was the mad hissing of something thrashing wildly off the pillars.

I looked up for a second. The enormous serpent, bright, poisonous green, thick as an oak trunk, had raised itself high in the air and its great blunt head was weaving drunkenly between the pillars. Fawkes was soaring around its head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers. Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing me, and before I could shut my eyes, it turned. I looked straight into its face and saw that its eyes, both its great, bulbous yellow eyes, had been punctured by the phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

"Shaass!" I heard Riddle screaming. "sohohashiahettessehhI"

The blinded serpent swayed, confused, still deadly. Fawkes was circling its head, piping his eerie song, jabbing here and there at its scaly nose as the blood poured from its ruined eyes.

I ran to Harry, taking of my shoes in the process for less noise. I shed my cloak as well. The basilisk moved its tail, making something land on Harry. The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat into Harry's arms. Harry seized it, and rammed it onto his head and threw himself flat onto the floor as the basilisk's tail swung over him and under me again.

Harry suddenly pulled off the hat, pulling out a sword, the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

"Sohassehaiettesshaehsssettahess!"

Harry was on his feet next to me, ready. The basilisk's head was falling, its body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face us. He could see the vast, bloody eye sockets, see the mouth stretching wide, wide enough to swallow me whole, lined with fangs long as his sword, thin, glittering, venomous... It lunged blindly. We dodged and it hit the Chamber wall. It lunged again, and its forked tongue lashed Harry's side. He raised the sword in both his hands. The basilisk lunged again, and this time its aim was true. Harry drove the sword to the hilt into the roof of the serpent's mouth. Suddenly, he gave out a cry and the basilisk fell. Harry slid down the wall. He gripped the fang that was sticking out of his arm wrenched it out. But we both knew knew it was too late. He looked at me dizzily and fell to the floor, bleeding heavily and panting.

"Fawkes," said Harry thickly. "You were fantastic, Fawkes. Rowan, get them out, take care of Riddle."

Fawkes, being a Phoenix, lay his head on Harry's wound, discreetly crying to heal him, and I knew he was saved, though Riddle didn't. He moved to stand in front of us.

"You're dead, Harry Potter," said Riddle's. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing, Potter? He's crying."

Harry blinked.

"I'm going to sit here and watch you die, Harry Potter. Take your time. I'm in no hurry. So ends the famous Harry Potter," said Riddle cruelly. "Alone in the Chamber of Secrets, forsaken by his friends, defeated at last by the Dark Lord he so unwisely challenged. You'll be back with your dear Mudblood mother soon, Harry... She bought you twelve years of borrowed time... but Lord Voldemort got you in the end, as you knew he must..."

"Get away, bird," said Riddle suddenly. "Get away from him, I said, get away!"

Riddle was pointing Harry's wand at Fawkes; there was a bang like a gun, and Fawkes took flight again in a whirl of gold and scarlet.

"Phoenix tears..." said Riddle quietly, staring at Harry's arm. "Of course... healing powers... I forgot..."

He looked into Harry's face. "But it makes no difference. In fact, I prefer it this way. Just you and me, Harry Potter... you and me... and this distraction.

He raised the wand at me. Then, in a rush of wings, Fawkes had soared back overhead and something fell into Harry's lap the diary.

For a split second, both me, Harry and Riddle, wand still raised, stared at it. Then, Harry seized the basilisk fang on the floor next to him and plunged it straight into the heart of the was a long, dreadful, piercing scream. Ink spurted out of the diary in torrents, streaming over Harry's hands, flooding the floor. Riddle was writhing and twisting, screaming and flailing and then he had gone. Harry's wand fell to the floor with a clatter and there was silence. Silence except for the steady drip of ink still oozing from the diary. The basilisk venom had burned a sizzling hole right through it.

Shaking all over, Harry pulled himself up. Slowly, he gathered together his wand and the Sorting Hat, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the basilisk's mouth. He then faced me, and opened his mouth, but a faint moan from the end of the Chamber stopped him. Ginny was stirring. As Harry hurried toward her, she sat up. Her bemused eyes traveled from the huge form of the dead basilisk, over Harry, in his blood-soaked robes, then to the diary in his hand, to me. She drew a great, shuddering gasp and tears began to pour down her face.

"Harry, oh, Harry,I tried to tell you at b-breakfast, but I c-couldn't say it in front of Percy, it was me, Harry , but I, I s-swear I d-didn't mean to, R-Riddle made me, he t-took me over, and he made me bring you, Row, how did you kill that, that thing? W-where's Riddle? The last thing I r-remember is him hurting Rowan."

Harry looked at me. "H-he hurt you?"

"Yeah." I said quietly. "The same way as last year."

He hugged me, and ginny started crying harder.

"It's all right," said Harry, holding up the diary, and showing Ginny the fang hole, "Riddle's finished. Look! Him and the basilisk. C'mon, Ginny, let's get out of here,"

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Harry helped her awkwardly to her feet. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and, w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"

Fawkes was waiting for them, hovering in the Chamber entrance. Harry urged us forward; we stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into a tunnel. I heard the stone doors close behind us with a soft hiss. After a few minutes' progress up the dark tunnel, a distant sound of slowly shifting rock reached Harry's ears.

"Ron!" Harry yelled, speeding up. "Ginny and Rowan are okay! I've got them!"

I heard Ron give a strangled cheer, and we turned the next bend to see his eager face staring through the sizable gap he had managed to make in the rock fall.

"Ginny! Rowan!" Ron thrust an arm through the gap in the rock to pull her through first. "You're alive! I don't believe it! What happened?" How, what, where did that bird come from?"

Fawkes had swooped through the gap after me.

"He's Dumbledore's," said Harry, squeezing through himself.

"How come you've got a sword?" said Ron, gaping at the glittering weapon in Harry's hand.

"I'll explain when we get out of here," said Harry with a sideways glance at Ginny, who was crying harder than ever.

"But..."

"Later," Harry said shortly. "Where's Lockhart?"

"Back there," said Ron, still looking puzzled but jerking his head up the tunnel toward the pipe. "He's in a bad way. Come and see."

Led by Fawkes, whose wide scarlet wings emitted a soft golden glow in the darkness, we walked all the way to the mouth of a pipe. Gilderoy Lockhart was sitting there, humming placidly to himself.

"His memory's gone," said Ron. "The Memory Charm backfired. Hit him instead of us. Hasn't got a clue who he is, or where he is, or who we are. I told him to come and wait here. He's a danger to himself"

Lockhart peered good-naturedly up at us all.

"Hello," he said. "Odd sort of place, this, isn't it? Do you live here?"

"No," said Ron, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

Harry bent down and looked up the long, dark pipe.

"Have you thought how we're going to get back up this?" he said to Ron.

Ron shook his head, but Fawkes the phoenix had swooped past Harry and was now fluttering in front of him, his beady eyes bright in the dark. He was waving his long golden tail feathers. Harry looked uncertainly at him.

"He looks like he wants you to grab hold..." said Ron, looking perplexed. "But you're much too heavy for a bird to pull up there..."

"Fawkes," said Harry, "isn't an ordinary bird." He turned quickly to us. "We've got to hold on to each other. Ginny, grab Ron's hand. Professor Lockhart..."

"He means you," said Ron sharply to Lockhart.

"You hold Ginny's other hand, and Ron, mine. Rowan, hold onto Fawkes and I, you're the strongest."

Harry tucked the sword and the Sorting Hat into his belt, Harry took hold of the back of my school shirt, and I reached out and took hold of Fawkes's strangely hot tail feathers. An extraordinary lightness seemed to spread through my whole body and the next second, in a rush of wings, we were flying upward through the pipe. I could hear Lockhart dangling below him, saying, "Amazing! Amazing! This is just like magic!" The chill air was whipping through my long hair, and before I'd stopped enjoying the ride, it was over. all five of us were hitting the wet floor of Myrtle's bathroom, and as Lockhart straightened his hat, the sink that hid the pipe was sliding back into place.

"You're alive!" Myrtle exclaimed to us all.

"There's no need to sound so disappointed." I joked. "Could you go alert old dumbles?"

"Sure! Come visit me tomorrow, please! I missed you!"

As we went out, I saw Fawkes was leading the way, glowing gold along the corridor. We strode after him, and moments later, found ourselves outside Professor McGonagall's office.

Harry knocked and pushed the door open. For a moment there was silence as Harry, Ron, Ginny, Lockhart and I stood in the doorway, covered in muck and slime and Harry and I blood. Then there was a scream.

"Ginny!"

It was Mrs. Weasley, who had been sitting crying in front of the fire. She leapt to her feet, closely followed by Mr. Weasley, and both of them flung themselves on their daughter.

My mother turned to me and hugged me tightly. She let me go. Professor Dumbledore was standing by the mantelpiece, beaming, next to Professor McGonagall, who was taking great, steadying gasps, clutching her chest. Fawkes settled on Dumbledore's shoulder.

"You saved her! You saved her! How did you do it?" I turned to see Mrs. Weasley hugging Harry and Ron.

"I think we'd all like to know that," said Professor McGonagall weakly.

Mrs. Weasley let go of Harry, who hesitated for a moment, then walked over to the desk and laid upon it the Sorting Hat, the ruby encrusted sword, and what remained of Riddle's diary.

Then he started telling them everything. For nearly a quarter of an hour he spoke into the rapt silence: He told them about hearing the disembodied voice, how Hermione and I had finally realized that he was hearing a basilisk in the pipes; how he and Ron had followed some spiders into the forest, that one named Aragog had told them that the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets was in Myrtle's bathroom, and our adventure downstairs.

"Very well," Professor McGonagall prompted him as he paused, "so you found out where the entrance was, breaking a hundred school rules into pieces along the way, I might add, but how on earth did you all get out of there alive, Potter?"

So Harry, his voice now growing hoarse from all this talking, told them about me and Fawkes's timely arrival and about the Sorting Hat giving him the sword. But then he faltered. Harry looked at Dumbledore, who smiled faintly, the firelight glancing off his half-moon spectacles.

"\What interests me most," said Dumbledore gently, "is how Lord Voldemort managed to enchant Ginny, when my sources tell me he is currently in hiding in the forests of Albania."

Mr. Weasley spoke up in a stunned voice. "YouKnow-Who? En-enchant Ginny? But Ginny's not... Ginny hasn't been... has she?"

"It was this diary," said Harry quickly, picking it up and showing it to Dumbledore. "Riddle wrote it when he was sixteen..."

Dumbledore took the diary from Harry and peered keenly down his long, crooked nose at its burnt and soggy pages.

"Brilliant," he said softly. "Of course, he was probably the most brilliant student Hogwarts has ever seen." He turned around to the Weasleys, who were looking utterly bewildered.

"Very few people know that Lord Voldemort was once called Tom Riddle. I taught him myself, fifty years ago, at Hogwarts. He disappeared after leaving the school... traveled far and wide... sank so deeply into the Dark Arts, consorted with the very worst of our kind, underwent so many dangerous, magical transformations, that when he resurfaced as Lord Voldemort, he was barely recognizable. Hardly anyone connected Lord Voldemort with the clever, handsome boy who was once Head Boy here."

"But, Ginny," said Mrs. Weasley. "What's our Ginny got to do with... with... him?"

"His d-diaryl" Ginny sobbed. "I've b-been writing in it, and he's been w-writing back all year."

"Ginny!" said Mr. Weasley, flabbergasted. "Haven't I taught you anything. What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain? Why didn't you show the diary to me, or your mother? A suspicious object like that, it was clearly full of Dark Magic!"

"I d-didn't know," sobbed Ginny. "I found it inside one of the books Mum got me. I th-thought someone had just left it in there and forgotten about it."

"Miss Weasley should go up to the hospital wing right away," Dumbledore interrupted in a firm voice. "This has been a terrible ordeal for her. There will be no punishment. Older and wiser wizards than she have been hoodwinked by Lord Voldemort." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Bed rest and perhaps a large, steaming mug of hot chocolate. I always find that cheers me up," he added, twinkling kindly down at her. "You will find that Madam Pomfrey is still awake. She's just giving out Mandrake juice. I daresay the basilisk's victims will be waking up any moment."

"So Hermione's okay!" said Ron brightly.

"There has been no lasting harm done, Ginny," said Dumbledore.

Mrs. Weasley led Ginny out, and Mr. Weasley followed, still looking deeply shaken.

"You know, Minerva," Professor Dumbledore said thoughtfully to Professor McGonagall, "I think all this merits a good feast. Might I ask you to go and alert the kitchens?"

"Right," said Professor McGonagall crisply, also moving to the door. "I'll leave you to deal with Zar, Potter and Weasley, shall I?"

"Certainly," said Dumbledore.

She left, and Harry and Ron gazed uncertainly at Dumbledore, I stared from the side as my mother left. What exactly had Professor McGonagall meant, deal with us? Surely, surely, we weren't about to be punished? Not me, but the two?

"I seem to remember telling you both that I would have to expel you if you broke any more school rules." said Dumbledore.

Ron opened his mouth in horror.

"Which goes to show that the best of us must sometimes eat our words," Dumbledore went on, smiling. "You three will all receive Special Awards for Services to the School and, let me see, yes, I think two hundred points apiece for Gryffindor."

Ron went as briglitly pink as Lockhart's valentine flowers and closed his mouth again.

"But two of us seem to be keeping mightily quiet about their parts in this dangerous adventure," Dumbledore added. "Why so modest, Gilderoy?"

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said quickly, "there was an accident down in the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Lockhart..."

"Am I a professor?" said Lockhart in mild surprise. "Goodness. I expect I was hopeless, was I?"

"He tried to do a Memory Charm and the wand backfired," Ron explained quietly to Dumbledore.

"Dear me," said Dumbledore, shaking his head, his long silver mustache quivering. "Impaled upon your own sword, Gilderoy!"

"Sword?" said Lockhart dimly. "Haven't got a sword. That boy has, though." He pointed at Harry. "He'll lend you one."

"Would you mind taking Professor Lockhart up to the infirmary, too?" Dumbledore said to Ron. "Id like a few more words with Harry and Rowan."

Lockhart ambled out. Ron cast a curious look back at us as he closed the door.

Dumbledore crossed to one of the chairs by the fire.

"Sit down, Harry, Rowan," he said, and we sat.

"First of all, Harry, I want to thank you," said Dumbledore, eyes twinkling again. "You must have shown me real loyalty down in the Chamber. Nothing but that could have called Fawkes to you."

He stroked the phoenix, which had fluttered down onto his knee. Harry grinned as Dumbledore watched him.

"And so you met Tom Riddle," said Dumbledore thoughtfully. "I imagine he was most interested in you..."

"Professor Dumbledore... Riddle said I'm like him. Strange likenesses, he said..."

"Did he, now?" said Dumbledore, looking thoughtfully at Harry from under his thick silver eyebrows. "And what do you think, Harry?"

"I don't think I'm like him!" said Harry loudly. "I mean, I'm... I'm in Gryffindor, I'm..." But he fell silent. "Professor," he started again after a moment. "The Sorting Hat told me I'd, I'd have done well in Slytherin. Everyone thought I was Slytherin's heir for a while... because I can speak Parseltongue..." He trailed off.

"You can speak Parseltongue, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly, "because Lord Voldemort, who is the last remaining ancestor of Salazar Slytherin, can speak Parseltongue. Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure."

"Voldemort put a bit of himself in me?" Harry said, thunderstruck.

"It certainly seems so."

"So I should be in Slytherin," Harry said, looking desperately into Dumbledore's face. "The Sorting Hat could see Slytherin's power in me, and it..."

"Put you in Gryffindor," said Dumbledore calmly. "Listen to me, Harry. You happen to have many qualities Salazar Slytherin prized in his hand- picked students. His own very rare gift, Parseltongue, resourcefulness, determination, a certain disregard for rules," he added, his mustache quivering again. "Yet the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor. You know why that was. Think."

"It only put me in Gryffindor," said Harry in a defeated voice, "because I asked not to go in Slytherin..."

I raised my eyebrows.

"Exactly." said Dumbledore, beaming once more. "Which makes you very different from Tom Riddle. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." Harry sat motionless in his chair, stunned. "If you want proof, Harry, that you belong in Gryffindor, I suggest you look more closely at this."

Dumbledore reached across to Professor McGonagall's desk, picked up the blood-stained silver sword, and handed it to Harry. Dully, Harry turned it over, the rubies blazing in the firelight. And hos eyes stopped at the name of the founder.

"Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat, Harry," said Dumbledore simply.

For a minute, neither of them spoke. Then Dumbledore pulled open one of the drawers in Professor McGonagall's desk and took out a quill and a bottle of ink.

What you need, Harry, is some food and sleep. I suggest you go down to the feast, while I talk to Rowan and write to Azkaban, we need our gamekeeper back. And I must draft an advertisement for the Daily Prophet, too," he added thoughtfully. "We'll be needing a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher... Dear me, we do seem to run through them, don't we?"

Harry got up and crossed to the door. He had just reached for the handle, however, when the door burst open so violently that it bounced back off the wall. Lucius Malfoy stood there, fury in his face. And cowering behind his legs, heavily wrapped in bandages, was Dobby, his elf.

"Good evening, Lucius," said Dumbledore pleasantly.

Mr. Malfoy almost knocked Harry over as he swept into the room. Dobby went scurrying in after him, crouching at the hem of his cloak, a look of abject terror on his face. The elf was carrying a stained rag with which he was attempting to finish cleaning Mr. Malfoys shoes. Apparently Mr. Malfoy had set out in a great hurry, for not only were his shoes half-polished, but his usually sleek hair was disheveled. Ignoring the elf bobbing apologetically around his ankles, he fixed his cold eyes upon Dumbledore.

"So!" he said "You've come back. The governors suspended you, but you still saw fit to return to Hogwarts."

"Well, you see, Lucius," said Dumbledore, smiling serenely, "the other eleven governors contacted me today. It was something like being caught in a hailstorm of owls, to tell the truth. They'd heard that Arthur Weasleys daughter had been killed and wanted me back here at once. They seemed to think I was the best man for the job after all. Very strange tales they told me, too... Several of them seemed to think that you had threatened to curse their families if they didn't agree to suspend me in the first place."

Mr. Malfoy went even paler than usual, but his eyes were still slits of fury.

"So, have you stopped the attacks yet?" he sneered. "Have you caught the culprit?"

"We have," said Dumbledore, with a smile.

"Well?"said Mr. Malfoy sharply. "Who is it?"

"The same person as last time, Lucius," said Dumbledore. "But this time, Lord Voldemort was acting through somebody else. By means of this diary."

He held up the small black book with the large hole through the center, watching Mr. Malfoy closely.

"I see. . . " said Mr. Malfoy slowly to Dumbledore.

"A clever plan," said Dumbledore in a level voice, still staring Mr. Malfoy straight in the eye. "Because if Harry here" Mr. Malfoy shot Harry a swift, sharp look. "and his friends, Ron, Hermione and Rowan hadn't discovered this book, why, Ginny Weasley might have taken all the blame. No one would ever have been able to prove she hadn't acted of her own free will..."

Mr. Malfoy said nothing. His face was suddenly masklike.

"And imagine," Dumbledore went on, "what might have happened then... The Weasleys are one of our most prominent pure-blood families. Imagine the effect on Arthur Weasley and his Muggle Protection Act, if his own daughter was discovered attacking and killing Muggle-borns... Very fortunate the diary was discovered, and Riddle's memories wiped from it. Who knows what the consequences might have been like."

"Very fortunate," Lucius said stiffly.

"Don't you want to know how Ginny got hold of that diary, Mr. Malfoy?" said Harry.

Lucius Malfoy rounded on him.

"How should I know how the stupid little girl got hold of it?" he said.

"Because you gave it to her," said Harry. "In Flourish and Blotts. You picked up her old Transfiguration book and slipped the diary inside it, didn't you?"

I saw Mr. Malfoy's white hands clench and unclench.

"Prove it," he hissed.

"Oh, no one will be able to do that," said Dumbledore, smiling at Harry. "Not now that Riddle has vanished from the book. On the other hand, I would advise you, Lucius, not to go giving out any more of Lord Voldemort's old school things. If any more of them find their way into innocent hands, I think Arthur Weasley, for one, will make sure they are traced back to you..."

Lucius Malfoy stood for a moment, and then, he turned to his house-elf.

"We're going, Dobby!"

He wrenched open the door and as the elf came hurrying up to him, he kicked him right through it. I could hear Dobby squealing with pain all the way along the corridor.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hurriedly. "Can I give that diary back to Mr. Malfoy, please?"

"Certainly, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly. "But hurry. The feast, remember..."

Harry grabbed the diary and dashed out of the office.

I turned to Prfessor Dumbledore.

He spoke first. "Rowan, is there anything you need to ask or tell me?" He asked.

I shook my head.

"I repeat, if you ever want to tell me anything, just try a few candy passwords." He sighed and looked me in the eye. "Rowan, you are a very intelligent and brave, as well as powerful witch, and that's why I'm worried about you."

"What do you mean, headmaster?" I asked.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, was much like you, the best of his year, the most gifted, but he had a terrible past." He said. "He had lived in an orphanage and had been abused by the other kids. He was full of hatred. You do too. I am aware you don't recieve attention from your parents, and have distanced yourself from them. I am aware of your sister's death. Amd I am aware of the social rejection that is to start over the next year. And I am worried, you'll see what I'm talking about. Hatred and sorrow can lead to darkness. I don't want you to go that way." He said.

"Don't worry, Headmaster." I said, shaking my head. "But what was that rejection you were talking about?"

"You should find out as soon as you get home." He said. "But as of now, I want you to think of what I said, and enjoy the feast."

I had been to several Hogwarts feasts, but never one quite like this. Everybody was in their pajamas, and the celebration lasted all night. I didn't know whether the best bit was Hermione running toward us, screaming "You solved it! You solved it!", or Hagrid turning up at half past three, cuffing us so hard on the shoulders that we were knocked into our plates of trifle, or our six hundred points for Gryffindor securing the House Cup for the second year running, or Professor McGonagall standing up to tell us all that the exams had been canceled as a school treat, or Dumbledore announcing that, unfortunately, Professor Lockhart would be unable to return next year, owing to the fact that he needed to go away and get his memory back. Quite a few of the teachers joined in the cheering that greeted this news.

"Shame," said Ron, helping himself to a jam doughnut. "He was starting to grow on me."

The rest of the final term passed in a haze of blazing sunshine. Hogwarts was back to normal with only a few, small differences: Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were canceled, and Lucius Malfoy had been sacked as a school governor. Draco was no longer strutting around the school as though he owned the place. On the contrary, he looked resentful and sulky. On the other hand, Ginny Weasley was perfectly happy again.

Too soon, it was time for the journey home on the Hogwarts Express. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny got a compartment to themselves. They made the most of the last few hours in which we were allowed to do magic before the holidays. We played Exploding Snap, set off the very last of Fred and George's Filibuster fireworks, and practiced disarming each other by magic. I was getting very, very, good at it.

"Ginny, what did you see Percy doing, that he didn't want you to tell anyone?" Asked Harry.

"Oh, that," said Ginny, giggling. "Well, Percy's got a girlfriend." Fred dropped a stack of books on George's head.

"What?"

"It's that Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope Clearwater," said Ginny. "That's who he was writing to all last summer. He's been meeting her all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was so upset when she was, you know, attacked. You won't tease him, will you?" she added anxiously.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Fred, who was looking like his birthday had come early.

"Definitely not," said George, sniggering.

The Hogwarts Express slowed and finally stopped.

Harry pulled out his quill and a bit of parchment and turned to Ron, Hermione and I.

"This is called a telephone number," he told Ron, scribbling it three times, tearing the parchment in three, and handing it to us. "I told your dad how to use a telephone last summer, he'll know. Call me at the Dursleys', okay? I can't stand another two months with only Dudley to talk to." I also gave them mine.

"Your aunt and uncle will be proud, though, won't they?" said Hermione as we got off the train and joined the crowd thronging toward the enchanted barrier. "When they hear what you did this year?"

"Proud?" said Harry. "Are you crazy? All those times I could've died, and I didn't manage it? They'll be furious..."

And together we walked into the muggle world, me making my trunk smaller, and climbimg onto a taxi, dreading what was to come.


	13. Prankster, At Last!

I aproached the house, listening to what was happening inside. My parents were shouting, and I could hear four unknown voices as well, three shouting and one speaking normally.  
I slowly unlocked the door and slipped inside. I peered into the living room from a peephole I'd accidentally made when I was six. It was low, but it worked. Three ministry officials and one ragged looking man were standing there, arguing with my parents. The man was trying to reason with them quietly.  
"You will not take away anything." My dad said angrily.  
"Listen." One of the officials said. "By law, Rowan Amethyst Lupin now has to live with Remus John Lupin. You signed the papers, which means you have to abide by that law." Lupin?  
"But you cannot possibly expect for two parents to part with their daughter when the other has recently died!" My mother shouted.  
"If you resist, we will have to take measures." Said another one.  
The ragged man looked miserable.  
"Of course we resist, what do you expect?" My father roared.  
"Very well, Rollaire, the order."  
One took a paper out and read what it said. "If the legal parents of Rowan Amethyst Lupin resist to her relocation in a period of two weeks, she will have to be taken immediately."  
"You can't do that!" My mother cried.  
"Rollarie, get the girl, I saw her come in. We'll restrain them, Lupin, wait here and don't do anything." The one in charge said agressively.  
I saw the man, Rollarie, appear next to me. "You heard that, right? You need to come."  
Scared, I nodded, following him. I looked at my parents, tears threatening to spill. They were crying as well.  
"Rollarie, apparate everything owned by the girl to the Lupin residence, mister Lupin, please apparate her to your home. Rollarie will come in a minute."  
I felt a soft hand on my arm, and with one last look at my parents, I felt myself be squeezed into a tube. I landed on my face on a wooden floor in a well-lit place. I felt myself be taken to a couch, and a pair of soft hands made me sit. I felt the seat under me shoft as another weight dropped to me. I sensed another apparition, and heard muffled voices as I tried to restrain my tears, and yet another apparition.  
"Rowan." A voice called.  
I looked up. I was looking at the ragged man, who was looking at me worriedly, in a fatherly way.  
"What do you want?" I asked harshly.  
"I didn't mean for this to happen. Law made it so." He said softly.  
"What do you mean?" I growled, wiping my eyes slightly.  
"I... I am a werewolf, so being unable to care for you due to no job, I had to give you up when you were a baby. You were placed with the Zars, who were unable to have a second child. Just recently, I accepted a job as Hogwarts's Defense teacher. This meant, by law, that you had to be returned to me." He said.  
"I don't give a shit." I stated, nearing shouting.  
"Please, Rowan. You're my daughter." He pleaded.  
"I am a quarter werewolf." I said, then added. "Who gives, get away from me."  
"Yes, but Rowan..."  
"I will not be seeing my parents again." I interrupted him, my voice dangerously low. "And it's all your fault."  
"They will be moved to a new residence, no doubt, for their resistence." He said unhappily. "Yes, it is my fault, in a way, I accept that."  
"Too bad, because I won't allow you to change and destroy me, just like you did to my parents. You are worse than Voldemort."  
"What?" He asked me confused, and with a pitiful tone.  
"What you heard." I smirked.  
"You shouldn't compare people to a man who you know nothing of." He said sadly.  
"Oh, I would know." I stated, still angry.  
"What?" He said, aghast.  
"Figure it out." I said, glaring. I then turned and went towards a hallway, where my room was sure to be.  
I opened a few doors until I found a room with a pink bed and pink walls with a white wardrobe as well as a white desk. What the hell? I whipped put my wand, since in a wizarding home the ministry wouldn't know who cast a spell, and pointed it at the room. I quickly muttered the color changing spell a few times, ending up with a wooden bed with purple sheets, light grey walls, and a wooden wardrobe and desk. I summoned my things from the living room, where one of the ministry officials had left them, and levitated everything into place. I proceeded to go outside, in the great fields, to vent some anger by setting up my portable volley court and practicing.

Over the next few weeks, nothing got better. I talked back, insulted, the whole deal. I didn't tell him when I went out, causing him to worry, to my satisfaction. That summer, yet again, I bought my school supplies alone, and had taken a small trip to the beauty shop. My previously lustrous and very long hair was to just under my shoulders in thin dreadlocks, which had already matured due to a spell. It was pulled back by a dark green headband I'd bought. I had also put in a piercing. In the wizarding world, you could legally have those at eleven, so there, I had one. On my outer edge of my left eyebrow, I had a small peircing shaped like a half-moon, significative of what I was. That was around the time Sirius Black escaped.

Hermione, Ron, Harry and I were walking down the aisle, searching for an empty place. I had come sort of late, so since they were waiting for me, the train had filled up some. We were nearing the end of the train, when Hermione called out.  
"Here, just one teacher!" She exclaimed.  
"A teacher?" I had the feeling that I knew who this was.  
She nodded and we went over. As soon as I saw who it was, I swore.  
"Crap." I said in a low voice, just in case he wasn't asleep.  
"What?" Harry asked.  
"I forgot. Last year, I promised the twins I'd sit with them to plan pranks." I lied swiftly, unnoticeable.  
Hermione looked downcast.  
"'Mione, we have the whole year together. If you haven't forgotten, we have every single class together, except you have Divination and I don't." I said.  
She nodded and they entered the compartment. I started walking towards the other end, where I'd last seen Fred and George. I really wanted to pranl with them, that was true. They'd asked me in my first year, and now that I could also go to Hogsmeade, I was going to help. I was passing the bathrooms when Draco came out of the boys one. He looked at me, and raised his eyebrow.  
"Dreadlocks, half-breed?" He asked.  
"Got a problem with that, Draco?"  
"Yes. Dreadlocks, they fit you too much, dirty and messy hair for a dirty and messy creature." He smirked.  
I didn't even raise my voice. "Messy, sure, dirty, no." I said.  
"I hear you found out." He smirked.  
"Yes, your point is?" I asked.  
He didn't answer. "You just have to be more civilized once you know your nature is the contrary." He chuckled under his breath.  
"What do you want, Draco?" I asked.  
"Nothing." He smirked, yet again.  
"Well, that's a first." I said. I walked past him and down the hall. As predicted, Fred and George where in a compartment with Lee. I didn't even knock as I opened the door and sat next to Lee.  
"Hello, Row." Lee said.  
"Hi Lee, what're you three up to?" I eyed the zonko products laid out on the table. "I want in."  
They started laughing. "About time, Rowan, just two years!" Fred said.  
"Thanks. Their finishing each other's sentences was driving me crazy." I said to the sky.  
They laughed. "So we were planning to hide these fireworks in Snape's office. You can activate them from a distance." Lee said.  
"I can do that, but I need a distraction." I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder.  
"You're taking after me." Lee said, inspecting my hair. I laughed.

We spent the next few hours planning a year full of laughs, the best so far, were it not for Black's escape. After a few hours, the train started to slow down. I picked up a swishing sound in the distance.

"Cool, we're there!" Lee said, not even bothering to look out the window, but I did.

"No we're not. We have about two hours left." I said, frowning at them.

The slower we went, the more the temperature dropped, and frost started to form on the windows. The swishing became louder, and I started shivering.

"Rowan, are you okay?" Fred asked. It was one of the first times I'd seen him and George serious. I could see why, I was shivering very badly compared to them. I was seeing red flash in front of my eyes. My limbs were starting to ache.

The lights turned off and someone ran in, Draco Malfoy, scared. I was hurting all over, and the cold was seeping straight into my bones.

" Rowan!" I heard one of the twins exclaimed just as I became numb.

The light was burning my eyelids. All my body was aching badly. I wasn't in the train anymore, but an extremely white room. This must be a record. Already in the infermary since before we got to school. I tried to sit up, but I just let out a groan, I couldn't lift myself. I felt something cold touch my lips just as I closed my eyes again.

"Open up." Madame Pomfrey said.

I did so, and my mouth was filled with heavenly chocolate. I instantly felt warmer, but I was still hurting. I brought a hand to my head.

"What in the world was that?" I asked.

"A dementor. It makes you recall your worst memories, sucking out your happiness. Your experience with the cruciatus curse was brought to the front of your mind." She said.

I sighed. "I'm not missing class, am I?" I asked.

"No. Once you drink these potions I'll take you to your common room, it's rather late." She said, bringing a phial to my mouth. I drank that one and another.

"That was disgusting." I complained.

"Stop getting hurt." She said.

"At least it's not like Harry." I said.

She laughed.


End file.
